Blind Justice
by Philosopher Fictionist
Summary: A case with special circumstances comes along, throwing a wrench in the process. Warrick.OFC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sorry about the lack of dividers. System was having difficulties when I uploaded and wouldn't let me fix it. Hopefully it's fixed now. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Shasta!" Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes popped open at the loud, almost hysterical sounding voice. Not so much from the noise itself, but from the word being screamed, echoing off the pavement of the asphalt driveways between houses, directing the sound into her cracked window. Even at night, Vegas stayed hot in the middle of August. Her air conditioner had broken down yesterday, a Sunday of all days, and tomorrow – today, she realized, blinking several times to clear the blur from her sleepy eyes to squint at the clock – was the day before the workmen were to come fix it. "SHASTA?" The voice quivered a bit, cracking at the end into a rattling cough. Mrs. Hawthorne bolted upright the moment she realized the owner of the voice, and she slapped the bedside table, fingers searching in the dark for her glasses. Seconds later, she was standing at the front door, glancing around nervously, modesty forgotten for the moment as she ventured toward the steps of her porch in only a white cotton night gown, printed with little bunnies and trimmed with lace around the sleeves.

"Nika?" she asked quietly, almost whispering as her bare feet took her to the bottom of the steps. Her eyes turned to the left, her mouth falling open and feet carrying her quickly to the girl's side just as she collapsed to the pavement, scraping her knees. "Good god, child, what happened to you?"

"I can't find Shasta, Betty," the girl, Nika, whimpered, shaking her head as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Let's worry about Shasta later," Betty said, pulling Nika back to her feet. She wrapped a wrinkled age-spotted arm around the girl's waist and led her into the house, setting her on the couch. "What happened?" she repeated?

"She got out. He left the back door open, I think" Nika said slowly, obviously still in shock, but from what, Betty Hawthorne didn't know.

"Who left the back door open?" she pressed.

"I don't know," Nika said. "I didn't recognize him." Betty's brows furled, and she took the girl's hands into her own. Betty Hawthorne was a widow, and had taken in every neighbor that was young enough to be a grandchild or child – nearly everyone on the street, actually – but this girl was special to her. "I have to find Shasta."

"What did he do to you?" Betty asked gently, brushing the hair out of Nika's eyes, her eyes narrowing at the bruise turning the pale skin around her eyes an angry purplish color.

"I have to find Shasta," Nika repeated, whispering this time, shaking her head and rocking slightly.

"We have to get you to the hospital," Betty said firmly, moving both of Nika's hands into her right as she reached for the phone on the end table with her left, dialing 911 without glancing at it.

"I was going to go after I found Shasta," Nika said, turning her head toward the older woman. "I promise."

"I believe you," Betty said with a gentle smile, "but I'm sure Shasta's fine, and I'm more worried about you at the moment." Nika nodded, her head lowering as she fidgeted with her fingers. As Betty explained the situation to the dispatcher, she watched Nika's hands shake, teardrops falling onto her bare, bruised knees. It was at that moment Betty realized they were both in pajamas, though Nika's white wifebeater and orange and white striped boxies were a far cry from her own cotton bunny nightie. She cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder, rubbing Nika's arm soothingly. "They'll be here in a few minutes," she said to Nika, watching the girl's eyes and head shoot up toward her.

"What?"

"The police and EMS," Betty said. "We're taking you to the hospital to check you out."

"I'm fine," she said blankly. "But Shasta's missing. She got out the back door." Betty nodded, though she wasn't sure why, and dropped the phone onto the couch next to Nika.

"I'll look for her when we get you to the hospital." Nika nodded absently. "Are you thirsty?"

"No, I'm fine," she said. "I can't have anything. They might need it." Betty's eyes narrowed, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Who might need what?" Betty asked, settling a motherly hand onto Nika's cheek. The girl jumped a little, but didn't pull away.

"I bit him," she said quietly. "Hard." Then Betty understood, and she sighed, clicked her tongue, and pulled Nika into a tight embrace, holding her there even as blue and red lights flashed, casting an eerie, pulsating glow through the window.

xxx

Warrick groaned, seriously considering throwing his cell phone out the window and barely thinking better of it before he opened his eyes and reached for it. With just a glance at the numbers blinking on the tiny, glowing screen, he scrunched his eyes shut and threw the covers back, silently cursing last night's double shift. After one of the world's quickest showers and a set of fresh clothes, he was out the door in fifteen minutes and in the Tahoe, lights flashing as he scuttled through traffic, he and Nick arriving at the scene at the same time. They shared one of those nods only men seem to pull off well, and headed toward Captain Brass, who was speaking with an older – make that downright elderly – woman in a white cotton nightgown with little pink rabbits dodging carrots. Brass' eyes flicked toward the pair of CSIs, and he nodded at the woman, gesturing to the two approaching 'copologists,' as Nick had once said.

"Mrs. Hawthorne, this is CSI Brown," Warrick nodded, "and CSI Stokes," Nick flashed her a bright, toothy, Texas smile, and she mirrored it.

"I was telling Captain Brass here," she continued, glancing at the man with large, grey, rapidly blinking eyes from behind thin glasses in delicate wire frames. "I couldn't get her to tell me what the hell happened to her." Both Warrick and Nick blinked in surprise at Mrs. Hawthorne's chosen words. "She just kept saying over and over Shasta's missing, Shasta's missing, and I was more worried about her than that damn dog." She tsked, shaking her head, eyes squeezed shut. "I didn't mean that. That dog is more important to her than anything else in this world. Sweet thing, too," she insisted, nodding vigorously at Nick as she gripped his forearm with a strength that surprised him. "She needs Shasta more than I need my damn coffee first thing in the morning."

"Whoa, whoa," Nick said, shaking his head a little. "Who's 'she'?"

"Nika," Mrs. Hawthorne said, her voice taking on a 'duh' tone. She blinked spastically again, shaking her head. "Right, right, I told Captain Brass before you two youngin's got here." Nick and Warrick shared a bemused glance. "Nika's my neighbor. Sweet young thing, she is." They followed her gaze to a young woman clutching a blanket around her shoulders, her face hidden behind long, straight black hair as her head tipped forward, watching one of the EMTs clean the scrapes on her legs and shins. "Whole neighborhood's fulla kids," she continued, her eyes lingering sadly on the girl as she spoke. "I take 'em in as my own, you know, children and grandchildren. With mine married and relocated, you know…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "I bake for them, check in on them," she said, turning back to the CSIs and officer. "Empty nest, I guess," she said with a quiet chuckle and a shrug of one misleadingly frail-looking shoulder, judging by the grip she'd had on Nick's arm. "Anyway, she wouldn't stop talking about Shasta until I'd promised her I'd look for her once I got her off to the hospital."

"What made you think she needed to go to the hospital?" Warrick asked after a beat, his eyebrow rising slowly as Brass glanced at him.

"She's beat all to hell," Mrs. Hawthorne sighed. Nick nearly snickered. "But I was just getting ready to tell Captain Brass," she said, turning toward him, "that I'd asked her if she wanted some water or something, you know, calm her down while the police were on their way and all." Brass nodded, trying not to enjoy the woman's rambling. "She said no, and said she couldn't."

"She couldn't," Nick repeated.

"Right. She said she couldn't have anything, and then she said the damnedest thing, and, Lord knows I had to have her explain."

"What'd she say?" Brass pressed.

"She said 'they might need it'," she said slowly, scrunching her eyes tight to remember the girl's exact phrasing, the expression drawing a grin from all three men. "And, shit, well I just didn't know what to make of that," she concluded, crossing her arms over her chest and thrusting her chin forward as though the statement was still attached. Brass' eyebrows rose. Mrs. Hawthorne's stance relaxed as she drew another breath to continue. "And so I asked her what the hell she was hangin' onto in there, and she said she bit him."

"Bit who?" Nick asked.

"Well, the man who came in through the back door, she said," Mrs. Hawthorne said, motioning once again toward Nika. "That's how Shasta got out, you know." Nick blinked a few times. Evidently Mrs. Hawthorne had gotten through most of the story before they'd arrived.

"That's a good piece of information, Mrs. Hawthorne," Brass said, flipping his notepad shut.

"Betty," she said shaking her head and waving her hands around. "Call me Betty. Mrs. Hawthorne makes me feel old." Her hands stopped suddenly, eyes popping open. "Well, hell, I _am_ old, but I sure as hell don't feel like it, so don't call me that. Call me Betty," she finished with a stern nod.

"Thank you… Betty," Brass said, bowing slightly. "You have my card?" Her hands searched around her body, flattening where any pocket would be, but coming up empty.

"Oh… the coffee table," she said, rolling her eyes. "I put it on the coffee table while I was getting you some coffee a while ago. But yes, I have your card, and I expect to hear from you if you need anything as well, you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am," Brass said, shaking the woman's hand. She shuffled off, dodging the crime scene tape blocking off a good half of her front yard. They watched with smiles as she plopped on the porch swing and watched the goings on, rocking slowly as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap, evidently having forgotten to care about being seen in her pajamas. Brass turned back to Warrick and Nick. "So we've got a home invasion and assault."

"Sexual?" Nick asked.

"Not sure yet," Brass sighed, turning back toward the ambulance. "Haven't gotten the chance to talk to her yet, with Mrs. Hawthorne – _Betty­_ – bending my ear for the past half hour."

"So what do we know?" Warrick asked, shifting his grip on his crime scene kit.

"Well, according to… Betty…," Brass started, nodding toward the woman, still swinging on her porch, "Someone broke into Annika Shaughnessy's house – that would be Nika – assaulted her, left the back door open for her dog to escape. Vic bit the assailant, hard enough to save some evidence in there, assailant left, and the vic went looking for her dog. Betty found her calling the dog's name in the street and took her inside to call us." Warrick nodded. "And we have a wrinkle." Nick and Warrick both looked at Brass expentantly. "Nika Shaughnessy is blind." Realization seeped into Warrick's features as he tilted his head to the side, and Nick heaved a sigh, shaking his head.

"Didn't see anything because she can't," Nick said, closing his eyes as though they'd just lost the case.

"Well, she's got evidence, her house might have some, and Grissom's always saying that evidence gives more up than even the most reliable witness," Brass said.

"Yeah, but without a suspect description…" Nick trailed off, and Brass shrugged.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," Brass said. "See if there's anything else."

"Find out what the dog looks like," Warrick suggested. "If the dog's as attached to the girl as Mrs. Hawthorne –" he glanced over his shoulder at the woman quickly, turning back to Brass, "Um, _Betty_ seems to think, the dog may have fought back too." Brass nodded, turning toward the ambulance. The sun was starting to peek over the mountains as Warrick and Nick headed into the house cordoned off with crime scene tape, flashing their IDs at the uniform standing next to the door.

xxx

"Find anything?" Warrick asked, returning to the dining area at the back of the small house, after searching the bedroom and collecting a small box filled with sealed evidence bags. He dropped the box on the floor next to a couch and glanced around.

"Got quite a bit actually," Nick said, nodding his head toward the evidence bags he'd collected so far. Warrick let out a low whistle, rewarded with a satisfied grin from his partner. "I already checked the back porch. Got some prints."

"Nice." Nick nodded, bagging a piece of fabric that had snagged on a rough spot on the frame of the sliding glass door. "You about done?"

"Yeah, almost," Nick said, going over the doorframe one more time with his flashlight. He paused, glancing up at Warrick. "You know, even with all this evidence, it would definitely be helpful to have a victim who could have seen something."

"Well," Warrick drew out, rubbing his eyes. "She could have heard something or smelled something – heard the guy's voice." Nick shrugged, bobbling his head side to side as he considered it.

"Yeah, maybe," he said after a beat. "But sketches are nice."

"True," Warrick granted. "But from what… Betty… said, the vic was a bit shaken. Might not be reliable anyway." Nick shrugged.

"Well, let's just hope all this evidence gets us somewhere."

"I hear that," Warrick said, picking up his box again as Nick loaded his, both nodding at the uniform to close up for now as they headed out to the Tahoe, both noting that the ambulance – and the ever entertaining Mrs. Hawthorne – had disappeared. Brass appeared as Nick and Warrick were both shutting the back doors to their trucks, smacking his notepad against his palm. "What's up?"

"Vic's on the way to the hospital now," Brass said. "I just spoke with her friend Casey Barnes – caretaker of sorts. She checks in on the vic every day, stops in, and calls several times to make sure all is well." Nick nodded. "Miss Barnes said she'd call once Miss Shaughnessy is up for having guests. In the mean time, we got a workplace for the vic, and her usual routes. Got a schedule to the minute, pretty much." Warrick couldn't help but smile. Something told him this Nika girl could help their case somehow. "And we gotta find that dog."

"When you talked to the vic, did she tell you if she'd saved anything from biting the guy?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah, I had the EMT swab for any blood," Brass said. "She said she tried to get a chunk for us, but didn't get a good enough grip on him except to draw blood." Nick and Warrick shared impressed smiles. Brass produced a capped cotton swab from his pocket, in a plastic bag, and held it out. Nick snatched it up and nodded toward Warrick's Tahoe.

"I'll get the evidence back to the lab," Nick offered. "Dig in." Warrick took a breath to protest, but Nick leveled a stare at him to remind him he owed Nick a not-so-fun duty, and he closed his mouth, rolling his eyes as he nodded.

"I'm gonna go talk to the boss," Brass said, flipping through his notepad. "Lawson's Books," he read, looking back to the men with a small shrug.

"Do we know what kind of dog I'm looking for?"

"German shepherd," Brass said. Warrick nodded, flipping through his keys to unlock the Tahoe so Nick could move the box of evidence to his vehicle and head back to the lab. "I'll call you when I hear from the friend."

They split up, Nick going back to HQ, Brass heading off to the bookstore, and Warrick cruising the neighborhood in the Tahoe, windows rolled down. He'd shed the button-down shirt, opting to let the air tickle his skin in his undershirt as he drove around, intermittently yelling out the dog's name. He rounded a corner and rolled to a stop, glancing around before pulling into the parking lot of what appeared to be a tiny park. After making sure his phone was clipped to his belt, he hopped out of the truck and started down the circular path, alternating whistles and the dog's name, just hoping he'd get lucky. As he started around the curve to head back to the parking lot, a large dog hopped out of the bushes, barking ferociously. He took a step back, holding his hands out, as the dog continued its frenzy. Slowly, he dropped to a knee.

"It's okay," he whispered, trying to keep his voice soothing. "Good dog. Good Shasta." At the mention of the name, the dog stopped barking for a moment, then lowered its front half, its ass-end in the air, tail thrashing wildly as it started barking again. "Good girl," Warrick continued, reaching out slowly for the dog's collar. As soon as his fingers closed around it, the dog leapt forward, knocking Warrick onto his back and pinning him, licking his face mercilessly. While sputtering, laughing, and trying to avoid the attacking tongue, he managed to find the tags on the collar, the names Shasta and Nika Shaughnessy, along with an address, phone number, and veterinarian information imprinted on a pair of circular metal plates. "Alright, enough," he said, wriggling out from under Shasta, who let out a low whine as though he'd insulted her by escaping. He sighed, wondering how he'd get her back to the truck to get her back to the lab, and finally decided to just carry her, meeting little resistance as he scooped her into his arms and staggered back to the Tahoe, loading her in the back and keeping the windows down on the way to the lab.

xxx

Nick looked up, brow raised, as Warrick waltzed in, rope in hand. As Nick's eyes moved along the rope, a smile broke out on his face, shaking his head as Warrick hoisted the panting German shepherd onto a table.

"What?" Warrick asked, noting Nick's grin. "I don't usually keep a spare leash in the truck," he said. "I did what I could."

"Nice improvisation," Nick said with a nod, turning back to the computer.

"You wanna help me?" Warrick asked, more of a suggestion than a question. Nick joined Warrick at the table, holding the dog's mouth open so they could search for tissue, and combed her coat for any trace she may have picked up from the assailant. They didn't find much.

"Guys." They both looked up, Shasta letting out a bark, and Brass jumped a little. "I see you found the dog."

"They bonded," Nick said, nodding at Warrick, who let out a mocking snort. "What'cha got?"

"The friend just called. We can drop the dog off at the pound on the way," Warrick took a breath and paused, prompting both men to raise a brow at him.

"The pound?" Brass shook his head, silently asking if there was a point. "She'll have to pay to get her out."

"We can write up a waiver. Just for holding," Brass said. Warrick nodded, helping Shasta off the table before wrapping the rope around his palm as they headed back out to the parking lot.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Brass nodded at the woman who scrambled to her feet as he stepped off the elevator, Nick and Warrick in tow.

"Captain Brass?" she asked timidly, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I'm Casey." She thrust out a hand.

"Stokes and Brown," Brass said, hooking a thumb toward each of them as he introduced the three. "How is she?"

"Better than I would be," Casey said with a snort. She sniffled a little, wiping her face again. "She fought him off before he could… could…" she trailed off, her face crumpling again. "Anyway, I thought I'd go ahead and call you. She's in there," she said, pointing toward a closed door. "Might be sleeping right now – they put her on some sedatives to shut her up." Brass' eyebrows shot up, and she gave him a tiny smile. "She kept trying to convince them she had to go look for Shasta."

"We found her," Warrick said. "She's at the pound and ready to get picked up."

"Oh, good," Casey sighed, closing her eyes in relief. "Shasta just means so much to Nika. She's her eyes, and all," she added with a shrug. "Seeing eye dogs are pretty expensive, and, well, Nika's had Shasta since she was a pup. They're attached." She paused, mouth hanging open as she glanced around like she was thinking. "So Nika's house – It's a crime scene, right?" Brass nodded. "So she can't go back, right?"

"Not for a while," Nick said. "Does she have someplace to stay?"

"Oh, sure," Casey said, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, she could stay with me. But I live in an apartment, and they don't let us keep pets." She sighed. "If Shasta's at the pound—"

"We left special instructions," Nick interjected. "If you don't have a place for her, they can keep her until the crime scene's cleared and Miss Shaughnessy can go home."

"God, this is going to kill her," Casey sighed, dropping back onto the chair in the waiting room. Brass shook his head, not following, and Casey swallowed before continuing. "Nika's used to routine – it's a comfort for her. It'll be hard enough not having Shasta, but adding on having to live somewhere else until she can go home, she's going to be very uncomfortable through this."

"We understand," Nick said. "Does she have sick time she can take? Not have to worry about work?"

"That'll just ruin her routine even more," Casey said, shaking her head. "I'm sure she'll take a few days off to rest up, but she'll want to get back to the routine as soon as she can. Get back to normality." Casey heaved a sigh, leaning her elbows on her knees. "I know how this works, and I'm not asking you to rush through this just to release her house so she can get her life back." She shook her head, dropping her head into her hands. "God, I'm rambling. Thinking out loud." Warrick settled a hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. "I mean, she adjusts amazingly to any kind of change, and she's one sharp cookie, so she'll be fine. It's just…" She sighed again, rubbing her eyes before lifting her head. "God, if I'd been there…" she trailed off, her lip quivering. Nick sat across from her, drawing her attention away from the door concealing her friend.

"This isn't your fault," he said gently. "If you'd been there, both of you could have been hurt."

"But Nika… she doesn't deserve this," Casey insisted, her voice nearly a wail.

"No one does," Nick said. "And you have our word we'll find this guy." She nodded, taking his hand and clutching it tightly.

"Do that," she whispered, meeting his eyes with an intensity that surprised him. Jaw set, he nodded, getting to his feet. She watched as the three walked a few feet closer to Nika's door for a private conversation. With a swipe of the back of her hand, she wiped her tears away and stared out the window.

"So what now?" Brass asked. "Vic's on sedatives, probably asleep, probably pretty altered."

"You and Nick take Barnes back to HQ and question her? I'll wait here until I can talk to the vic?" Warrick suggested with a shrug.

"We could go over the vic's routes," Brass said. "Probably more comfortable for her if she doesn't think she's being interrogated. Might be able to think of possible suspects. Talk more." Nick nodded. "Sure you don't mind waiting, Warrick?"

"Not at all. Might even catch a nap while I'm waiting," he said with a small smile. Nick chuckled, shaking his head a little. "I'll go talk to the doctors," Warrick said, backing toward the nurse's station as Nick and Brass turned back to the waiting room.

xxx

He wasn't sure when he'd drifted off or how long he'd been asleep, but he was startled back to the real world with a gentle touch on the shoulder. A nurse squeaked as he jumped, and they both smiled apologetically.

"She's awake now," the nurse said, nodding toward Nika's door. "If you'd like to talk to her. She's pretty coherent." Warrick rubbed his eyes, slowly getting to his feet.

"Thanks," he said through a stifled yawn, patting her on the shoulder as he walked past her to cross the hall. The room was nearly dark, and he had to stop to let his eyes adjust. He blinked a few times as the room slowly came into focus, and he heard sheets rustling from behind the curtain.

"Miss Shaughnessy?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, c'mon in," she said, her voice sleepy. "Nurse said you were here to talk to me." Warrick peeked around the curtain before walking around it, settling in a chair under the window. "Could you open the drapes a little?" she asked after a moment. He heard the smile in her voice, and got to his feet, pulling the curtains open a crack to let the sunlight spill through. As he turned back to her to return to his seat, he noticed her head follow his general direction. "And you are?"

"CSI Warrick Brown, LVMPD."

"Sounds official," she said with a muted chuckle. "Nice to meet you." He took a breath and let it out slowly, taking a notepad and pen from a vest pocket.

"I know this isn't easy," he prefaced, his eyes flicking up toward the bed as she let a quiet groan slip, turning on her side to face him. "But I need you to tell me what happened." She sighed, gingerly touching a gash on her forehead that had been closed with several stitches.

"I was asleep, no idea what time it was. Shasta – my dog – started barking and woke me." Her brows furled, and she lifted her head and took a breath, but Warrick beat her to it.

"I found her in the park down the street," he said. "She's fine." Nika's face relaxed, her head falling back on the pillow as her eyes closed in relief.

"Thank God," she sighed. "So anyway, Shasta woke me, and I felt like someone was watching me – like you are now." Warrick's eyes narrowed. "Really intensely, almost like staring. So I started freaking out, and called for Shasta, but she wasn't barking anymore and she didn't come to me, so then I _really_ started freaking out." She sighed, shaking her head. Warrick noticed her lip tremble a little, and he reached out, rubbing her shoulder gently.

"It's okay," he whispered. She nodded.

"Um, I started down the hallway, trying to be really quiet, and then I heard something crunch." She paused, closing her eyes as though she were recalling it. "It sounded like glass. I don't remember hearing glass breaking, but that could have happened while Shasta was barking and I was still semi-conscious. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen or the dining room maybe, and I figured it was the back door."

"It was," Warrick confirmed, drawing a pleased smile from the woman.

"A second later, I ran into someone – literally." She paused to swallow nervously and gather herself again, quietly apologizing. "He, um, had a mask on. Grooved and rough, like a ski mask or something, and I pulled it off trying to get way." Warrick made a note to ask Nick about that. "He threw me up against a wall and tried to, you know, get my shorts off, so I kneed him where it counts – score one for the good guys, right?" Warrick chuckled, and she flashed him a nervous smile. "And I bit him as hard as I could. I figured I'd probably need to save a piece for later," she added, the smile growing into a twisted grin, but it fell quickly. "But as soon as I bit down, he pulled away, and all I got was blood… I think."

"And then?"

"I went looking, so to speak, for Shasta," she said quietly. "I'm sure you've heard several times over that I'm blind." Warrick nodded. "And then Betty found me, shocked to shit and missing my eyes."

"Can you think of anyone who could want to—"

"No one," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I've been racking my brain trying to think of someone, anyone, and I don't know."

"We'll find him," Warrick reassured her, receiving a reluctant smile. "If you don't mind me asking…"

"Genetic," she said with a small shrug. "Happened to my mother, her mother, blah blah. I was sighted until I was eighteen, and then I started losing it slowly, about the same time my mother did and about the same time I started learning Braille." Warrick looked impressed. "So by the time I was nineteen, I was in a special school to learn to adjust, and that's where I met Casey."

"But she's—"

"Sighted, I know," Nika interjected, nodding. "She was studying occupational therapy about the time I was losing my sight, and discovered she wanted to help people like me. I live on financial support from a number of institutions and foundations, for various reasons, and I have a part-time job at a book store for the blind," she said, pausing to yawn. "Other than that, I just go to the grocery, go to the park with Shasta, and mill around the house. Casey stops by every day and helps me take care of the things I haven't yet learned to do myself and keeps me company for a while." She closed her eyes, nuzzling the pillow a little, Warrick watching her. "You're quiet."

"I'm just thinking," he said, glancing at his notepad to think of any more questions he might have.

"Do you always stare at someone while you're thinking?" she asked, wearing a tiny smile. He tried to think of a response, and she let out a weary laugh. "I'm teasing. Well, not really. I'm not sure you were staring, but I _am_ sure you're used to looking people in the eye when you're talking to them. And now I'm going on and on like I'm insane."

"Not at all," Warrick said. A silence settled in the room, save the rustling of the sheet as she jiggled a knee nervously.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked after a long moment.

"Sure." But she paused again, this time for a greater amount of time.

"Can you move a little closer to the bed?" He answered by scooting his chair a little closer, and she reached a hand out, finding his arm. "Closer," she pressed, pulling on his arm gently. His brows furrowed, but he complied, pulling up until his knees nearly touched the side of the bed. She licked her lips nervously, closing her eyes as she moved her hand up his arm to his shoulder, using him for leverage as she sat up a little. "I want to see you," she whispered, moving both hands to his face, lightly tracing his features. "What color are your eyes?" she asked after a while, her eyes still closed.

"Green," he said slowly, hesitantly.

"I just wondered," she said, shrugging one shoulder a little as she started tracing again. "I know it's harder for you," she continued, "not having a victim who can describe her attacker. But I can." He blinked quickly, and she smiled. "If you can find someone with… um… how do I describe this?" She sighed, resting her palms against his cheeks as she thought. "You know how in composite sketches you have someone pick through a catalogue of features?" He nodded, and she smiled. "If you can find someone with actual physical features – you know, like a model nose collection or something – I might be able to narrow it down." He inadvertently tilted his head to the side. "That's what I miss most," she said, not really meaning to.

"What's that?"

"Expressions," she said after a moment, withdrawing her hands and lying back down. "People still have them – they shake their head, tilt it to the side, scrunch their eyebrows – and short of making people describe what they're doing with their faces I miss all of that," she explained. "I mean, it's one thing to indulge someone and let them get a feel, no pun intended, for what you look like, but it's another to let them do it constantly while you're having a conversation. I understand people get weirded out by that," she said with a shrug. "But I was always a face maker as a kid. I always paid attention to that." She forced a small smile. "Like with Betty. Whenever she gets frustrated or she's concentrating really hard on trying to think of something, she scrunches her eyes up really tight, like it's painful." Warrick had to chuckle. "See? You noticed it too."

"I did, actually," he admitted. "And I think I might be able to arrange that lineup for you."

"Yeah?"

"I can try," he said. "No promises, though. But we'll definitely try."

"Will it be admissible?" she asked after a beat.

"Honestly, I'm not sure." Her face fell. "Can you describe him at all? Height? Build? Smell?"

"He didn't smell like anything, really. Soap – maybe Ivory – and another soapy smell I didn't recognize."

"Shampoo, maybe?"

"Maybe." She chewed on her lip, and he let her think. "He was a little taller than me. Five-ten, maybe six foot." She sighed. "I think he was pretty average. He didn't strike me as really burly or skinny or anything." Warrick nodded. "And he had really short hair, like it was buzzed. Crewcut or a do-it-yourself job with clippers you can get at Wal-Mart or something." She yawned again, burying her face in the pillow.

"I can come back later," he said, catching himself before he pointed at the door.

"They said I might be able to go home tomorrow," she said. "You're welcome to stop by."

"Yeah, um…"

"Casey's house, I mean," she corrected. "Any idea when I'll be able to go home home?"

"Soon." She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll give you a call and let you know if I have any other questions."

"Well, considering you haven't grilled me on where I was all day and what I did, who I saw, who I talked to… you have more questions," she said. "Anything you need."

"We appreciate it," he said sincerely.

"It was nice to meet you," she offered after a moment, holding her hand out.

"I wish it was under other circumstances," he commented, taking her hand in his, watching with fascination as she clasped both hands over his. "Casey has our contact information if you think of anything that might help or if you want to talk about something."

"When do you work?"

"Call any time," he said, squeezing her hand gently. She smiled a little, copying the action.

"Thanks for your help."

"We're just getting started," he said. She nodded, removing her hands from his and rubbing them together. "Feel better." He stood, and her head followed his general direction as he left the room, turning to her other side to go back to sleep. She'd meant to ask him to close the curtains again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Tell me good news, man," Warrick said as he shuffled into the lab, two days of double shifts taking their toll. Nick was standing in the break room, blowing on a cup of coffee in one hand, a stack of reports in the other.

"I think we got a suspect," Nick said, offering Warrick the papers.

"Yeah?"

"Got a hit on the fingerprints I pulled from the glass of the back door around the break, and on the fingerprint I got off the inside handle," Nick said, pointing at the printouts.

"Nice."

"Brass is tracking him down right now," Nick finished, letting out a groan as he lowered himself into a chair at the table. "How'd you do?"

"Well, she didn't wake up for a few hours after you left. And I did find out we might be able to get a composite sketch together." Nick's eyebrow rose, his coffee cup posed a few inches from his lips, stalled on its trip to ingestion. "She sees with her fingers, Nick," he explained, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly. "She feels out features and thinks she can get a pretty close description if we can get some models together."

"What, you mean like little clay statues of facial features?" Nick asked, seeming skeptical.

"Something like that, yeah. Think we could arrange that?"

"Are we talking about your blind assault case?" They both turned toward the hallway, noting Grissom poking his head in through the doorway.

"Yeah," Warrick said after a pause.

"Go to the WLVU anthropology department. They might have something that could help," Grissom suggested.

"Thanks," the two CSIs said together, and Grissom only shrugged before walking away.

"I'm on it," Warrick said, picking up a coffee cup and loading up for the road.

"I'll give you a ring once we talk to this Jason Noble guy," Nick offered. "Let you know what's up. Might not need the sketch after all."

"Catch you later, man. Hey, Cath." Warrick didn't bother to stop and chat, leaving Catherine staring at Nick questioningly.

"He's got to see a professor about some body part models," Nick said with a shrug. Catherine only arched a brow, not sure if she wanted to know. Nick elaborated anyway. "Got a blind assault victim. Thinks she can help with a composite sketch if she has something to feel."

"That's new," Catherine said, delving into the coffee. "Why doesn't anyone start a new pot _before_ we're out of the leaded stuff?" she asked, rolling her eyes as she searched the cabinet for coffee that wasn't decaffeinated to start a fresh pot of the good stuff. "You think it'll work?"

"I dunno," Nick said with a shrug. "Never heard of it before, but Warrick seems convinced."

xxx

Warrick was waiting outside a classroom after speaking with what seemed to be every person in the anthropology department, including some students, before finding someone he could talk to about a physical catalog, for lack of a better word, for Nika to reference in making a sketch. Class was in session, taught, of course, by the man he wanted to speak with, and just before students started filing out, Warrick's phone buzzed at his hip, startling him out of a trance.

"Brown."

_Noble's not talking_, Nick told him. _He's lawyered up. Says we found his fingerprints because he installed a new door. The old one jammed. Brass and I are on our way over to Barnes' apartment to talk to Shaughnessy. _

"You like him for it?"

_We'll need that sketch, or something else we haven't gotten to, if Shaughnessy confirms his story._

"Right. I'm getting ready to talk to the guy at WLVU right now," Warrick said. "Keep me posted."

_You got it._

Warrick flipped his phone shut and started down the steps of the auditorium, toward the professor, who was gathering papers and stuffing them rather chaotically into a messenger bag.

"Dr. Weston?" The man paused in his paper stuffing and turned slowly, peering over reading glasses.

"Yes? And you are?"

"CSI Warrick Brown, LVMPD," Warrick answered, sticking his hand out. The professor grasped it and shook once before letting go.

"How can I assist the police?"

"I'm not sure if you can, but it'd be a great help if you could." Warrick quickly explained the situation, the professor's eyes lighting up more and more as he continued. The man was practically glowing by the time he'd finished.

"Actually, I _can_ help you," Weston said, nodding vigorously. "I have a friend who sculpts, from photos usually, and she has an extensive reference collection. If you can give me your card, I can give her a call and see if she can meet you at the police department."

"That would be great," Warrick said, fishing a card from his wallet.

"Can I give her your number so she can speak with you directly about when to meet?"

"Absolutely," Warrick said. "Any idea when that could be?"

"I'll call her just as soon as I get back to my office, actually," Weston said, stroking a salt and pepper beard. "She works for herself, naturally, so it would be a matter of her getting the collection together and making the trip, most likely."

"I really appreciate it, Dr. Weston."

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Brown," Weston said, offering his hand. Warrick called Nick on the way out to the parking lot, heading over to Casey's apartment from the university. Not twenty minutes later, Casey let him in, already holding out a glass of lemonade for him. He joined Brass and Nick in the living room, taking a seat next to Nika on a white couch, matching the one Brass and Nick perched on. Casey stayed nearby, taking a barstool at the breakfast bar.

"CSI Brown," Nika said, nodding toward him. Nick blinked quickly. "Good to see you again."

"How are you?" Warrick asked, glancing at Nick and Brass, who stared back at him.

"Tired and sore, but otherwise okay," she said with a small shrug, shifting on the couch. She leaned against the armrest, her head leaning against the back cushion, knees drawn to her chest, a Mexican blanket pulled over her and tucked under her feet. Casey noticed the exchange between law enforcement officers and sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Just because she's blind doesn't mean she doesn't recognize people." Her tone had taken an edge, somewhere between insulted and defensive. "She's missing one sense. Four are left and she's—"

"Casey!" Nika exploded, sitting up a little. All four other people turned toward her. "Lay off, already. Jesus. You'd think _you_ were the one missing a sense, people sharing looks when you surprise them with an observation. They're here to help. Let them do their job without a fucking lecture for Christ's sake." Casey cleared her throat, shrinking a little as she turned her attention back to her lemonade. "And for the record, since it was brought up, Mr. Brown smells like vanilla and cinnamon, with a touch of something else I haven't quite figured out yet. Mr. Stokes smells like Adidas for Men cologne and Irish Spring soap. And you, Mr. Brass, smell like Old Spice and you should probably lay off the detergent. That stuff will build up in your clothes and start giving you a rash if you're not careful." All three were grinning now, and Nick finally broke the silence with a chuckle.

"Old Spice, Brass?" he asked, snickering.

"It was a gift. Shut up."

"You were asking me about Jason Noble. Yes, he installed my patio door, and no, it wasn't him the other night. I didn't recognize this guy," she said, steering the conversation back to the case. "I would have recognized Jason. He's a good friend. Lives three doors down, and his cats always get a rise out of Shasta."

"You're sure," Brass pressed. Casey took a breath, but Nika had already repeated her certainty.

"He was a stranger, I'm sure of it," she said.

"I talked to a sculptor on the way over here," Warrick said quietly, drawing her attention. "She's going to be able to set up a feature reference set for you. Hopefully a sketch will help."

"You think so?" she asked, a touch of hope in her voice.

"She can be at the department in an hour or so, if you're up for going. I told her I wasn't sure when you'd feel up to it, but she said she'd be able to work around our schedule," Warrick said.

"The sooner the better, right? Fresher memories?" she asked, sitting up a little.

"That's true to an extent, Miss Shaughnessy," Nick said.

"Nika. Annika or Nika, please. No need for formalities."

"Another day wouldn't hurt, if you don't feel like you're ready to go," Nick continued. "We don't need to push you, Nika." She smiled at the mention of her first name.

"I just want this guy caught," she said, shaking her head. "We can go now, if you'd like. Just let me get dressed." Warrick started to stand as Nika did, but she somehow managed to find his shoulder, using him to help her stand and to steady her as she arranged the blanket on the couch. She moved with confidence, navigating furniture and hallways with little feeling around. Casey didn't seem to notice. The guests and hostess remained quiet as Nika changed in Casey's bedroom, emerging a few moments later in loose jeans and a black tanktop, black Converse tennis shoes on. "Ready?"

"Miss Barnes, Casey," Brass said. "If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Stokes and I would like to speak with you. Go over some of Annika's routines." Nika noticed he used her full name.

"I'd rather –"

"It's fine Casey. There's no sense in you wasting hours of watching me cop a feel of body part models when there's more to be done that could help," Nika said gently. Casey took her hand tightly.

"You're sure."

"Stop treating me like a child," Nika said, nearly hiss-pering. "I'm fine." Casey nodded, giving Nika's hand two quick squeezes, their code for 'okay' or 'yes', and Nika went to the door, turning back to the group.

"Warrick? Are we ready?" she asked, holding an arm out slightly.

"Ready if you are," he said, walking to her side. She found his arm and looped hers around his elbow, pulling the door open with her free hand. Casey watched as he led her out carefully, waiting until the door closed to turn back to the remaining investigators.

"You know," Nika said, turning her head towards Warrick slightly, "from her door to the parking lot I know just fine. This," she said, pausing on the steps, "is the last step." To prove her point, she hopped off the metal staircase onto the concrete. "Sixteen steps and the sound of footsteps on metal near where it's bolted to concrete is a dead giveaway."

"I have to say I'm impressed," Warrick said.

"Not everyone adjusts so well," she said, shrugging. "I was always headstrong. If someone told me I couldn't do it, I tried, if for no other reason than proving them wrong." Warrick chuckled, and she smiled. "You have a nice laugh."

"Do I?"

"Absolutely," she said with a firm nod. "Just need to use it more."

"In my line of work…"

"Yeah, there's not much to laugh about," she finished.

"Right." He slowed, guiding her to the passenger side of the Tahoe. "I'm afraid my vehicle's probably going to be a bit awkward."

"SUV?"

"Yeah. And a big one at that." She grinned.

"The male preoccupation with size," she snorted. "They have a saying, you know."

"What's that?" Warrick asked, reluctantly taking the bait.

"A man with a large truck is compensating," she said.

"Ouch." His feigned injury prompted a hearty, if not evil, laugh from her as he opened the door. "So how does this work?"

"The easy way or the hard way?" she asked.

"Which would you rather have?"

"Well, for time's sake, the easy way. For pride's sake, the hard way," she said with a shrug. "And for my shins' sakes, the easy way. New vehicles leave bruises," she added, making a face she was sure would get a laugh. Warrick obliged, and she beamed at the sound.

"So let me guess. The easy way is for me to pick you up, and the hard way is for you to figure it out yourself."

"Score another for the good guys," she said with a nod. "And since standing here in the parking lot probably isn't the most pleasant thing to do in this heat, let's do this the easy way. I can learn your car some other time."

"Alright. You ready?" She nodded, and he wrapped an arm around the middle of her back, waiting until her arm looped around his neck to stoop and lift her off the ground, setting her gently in the passenger seat. Her fingers immediately searched out the seatbelt, and once he was sure she was in, he shut the door and walked around, waving quickly to the others as they descended the stairs.

As he climbed in and jammed the key in the ignition, he watched her search out the window controls, not taking long to find them and not taking any time to get hers down without moving the others. It was common sense, really. Most cars were built the same.

"I have air conditioning if it's more comfortable," he said, backing out of the parking lot.

"I like natural air. The smells, the sounds, everything," she said quietly, letting her eyes close as she leaned her head back against the seat, her hair dancing as he pulled onto the street. It took her a while to work up the nerve to say it, but she turned to Warrick: "I'm sorry about Casey. She's protective, but usually not to that extent."

"She's right," Warrick said.

"No, she's not," Nika insisted. "I know people don't expect me to notice the things I do because most sighted people have never been blind long enough to learn to compensate. And most people wouldn't consider the possibility of being _able_ to compensate much, if at all." She shook her head, turning back to the window to let the air whip against her skin. "I know people stare. It's normal to me, and I've come to expect it. It doesn't bother me at all."

"What does?" Warrick asked.

"When people try to do stupid things for me, things that I've learned to do to live on my own. It might take me longer, but if I need help actually _doing_ something, I know to ask rather than try on my own." She shrugged. "But other than that, I'm pretty easy going for the most part. Not much really irks me." A silence settled in the Tahoe, not strained or uncomfortable, just lacking words. When Warrick pulled into a parking spot and stopped, she undid the seatbelt, opened the door, and slid out of the cab to the ground, shutting the door and waiting. He came around, nudged her arm with an elbow, which she took, and led her into HQ, taking her back to a room he'd had set up for the session.

"Nika, meet Yvette Chao," Warrick said. Nika smiled, stuck out her hand, still grasping Warrick's arm. "All set up?"

"Ready and willing," Yvette said, taking a seat at a table. She'd arranged the table with several trays lined with various different shapes of all facial features along with a foam mannequin head and a box of toothpicks. Warrick led Nika to a chair, taking the third chair and sitting back to observe. As the session went on, Nika became more and more frustrated, trying harder and harder to discern between subtle differences. She'd go back and forth between two models, asking Yvette to describe the differences, move on to another pair, then back to the first. After an hour and a half straight, she dropped three noses on the table with a sigh.

"I'm not getting anywhere, am I?" she moaned, dropping her head to the table with a quiet thud.

"You're doing fine," Warrick said, glancing at the models that had been definitively eliminated. "You've got it narrowed down by more than half."

"And it's really getting frustrating," she said, lifting her head to rest on her chin. "Can I take a break?"

"Sure. You mind Yvette?"

"Not at all. Just let me know when you're ready to try again," she said, sounding pleasant as ever. As Nika stood, she reached out, taking her hand. "You're doing fine, Nika," Yvette said. "You're frustrated over the details is all. And we can get through those." Nika nodded, managing a tight smile as she reached for Warrick.

"Where to?" he asked, once in the hallway.

"Outside," she answered quietly. "Where it's warm and sunny." He smiled, turning down a hallway and opening a door. She stepped out into the sun, tilting her face up toward the sky a little.

"There's a little bench over here," he said, reaching for her hand. She let him lead her a little ways, turning to feel behind her before she sat, leaning forward on her knees. Warrick sat next to her leaning back, and she heard him stretch his arms out to either side. He just watched her for a while, a tiny breeze blowing her black hair over one shoulder, shadows forming where graceful slopes of muscle flexed as she moved. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and turned toward him slightly.

"I'm sorry this is taking so long," she said quietly. "I'm sure Casey's just beside herself wondering what kind of horrible things you're doing to me." Warrick snickered, prompting a smile, and shook his head.

"It's taking less time than doing it on a computer with a sighted person," Warrick said, tapping her back for emphasis.

"Really?"

"Would I lie?"

"I don't know," she said with a smirk. "Would you?" He blinked quickly. "Didn't expect that, did you." He laughed, as did she. "No, I don't think you would lie under these circumstances. Under others, depending on the situation, maybe."

"Okay, I'll give you that," Warrick conceded. "And you?"

"I lie all the time," she said seriously, adding a shrug as if it was no big deal. Warrick's brows furrowed. "Mostly to neighbors, never Betty though – she can always tell – and sometimes to Casey."

"Why?" She sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"I work internally. I don't talk about everything that's bothering me with a friend or acquaintance, or even a stranger. Not even Wally at the bar." Warrick smiled. "I know people always say that if you keep the bottle capped it'll burst, but I don't work that way. I just… I guess I have a talent for being objective about personal stuff. Problems, whatever. I can kick myself in the ass when I need it or forgive myself when I deserve it, but I've never needed a confidante."

"So you keep to yourself," Warrick said.

"Not really. I keep me to myself. The inside. I mean, people certainly know me – I'm not hiding anything except things I don't want people meddling with. I deal with shit on my own, and everything works out eventually."

"Can I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure," she said, nodding a little.

"Don't lie to me, for any reason," he said slowly. She didn't turn to him, didn't respond at all. "If you don't want to talk about something or don't know or aren't sure, just say so. Don't make something up."

"I can give you that much," she said.

"So how are you?" She licked her lips, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I'm terrified," she admitted quietly. "My back hurts like a bitch, my forehead's split open – I'm sure you can guess how that feels." She sighed. "And I'm lucky nothing more than getting beat to hell happened to me." Warrick rested a hand on her back gently, and she leaned back, settling against his arm. "And I'm still kicking myself in the ass for thinking this was punishment for something." Warrick took a breath, but she waved him off. "I know," she said. "I thought for a long time that going blind was punishment for something, and eventually convinced myself to believe there was nothing I could do."

"None of this is your fault, Annika," he said quietly. She forced a small laugh.

"You know, if you really think about it, there's really no way of knowing that. I mean, for all we know, there is a God who does this stuff to punish us, and for all we know that's a steaming pile of bullshit."

"Whoa, there," Warrick snorted. "No philosophy today. Not enough sleep for philosophy." She laughed, though half-heartedly, and shook her head.

"I'm okay. Not good, not great, not ready to give up. I'm just… okay," she said finally. "I could use a shot of bourbon and a long visit with Shasta, but I'm okay."

"I could arrange that," Warrick said.

"Which?" The question gave him pause.

"Either, actually. The bourbon would have to wait until the case wraps, but I'm sure Shasta would be happy to see you," he said.

"After I finish picking a nose, though," she said with a wry smile. His chuckle made her feel a little better about things. "You know, this guy had pretty good timing," she said, standing and stretching her arms overhead.

"Why's that?"

"I get to be a guinea pig next week," she answered, taking his arm. "New surgery they want to try. Hopefully it works this time."

"Really." She only nodded, pulling the door open for both of them, following him in and quickly falling into step beside him.

"It's a new laser procedure. Supposed to remove damaged retinal tissue. If that works, implantable lenses could give me almost 20/20 vision," she said, letting him open the next door for her. Once again, he took a seat and watched Nika and Yvette resume nose-sorting at the table.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Warrick and Nika followed the pound employee down a row of cages, chain link separating them from a large collection of barking dogs awaiting a new owner or euthanasia, whichever came first. Both of Nika's arms were wrapped tightly around Warrick's elbow, and she plastered herself against his side, shuffling along next to him as he followed the guy to the end of the row.

"She's been pouting all day," the man said, fishing through his pockets for his keys. Nika jumped a little as he yanked on the chain holding the door to Shasta's pen shut, metal clanging against metal and echoing, mixing with barks and chains rattling as other dogs leapt at the fencing. "Looks happy now though," he added with a shrug. Warrick noticed that Shasta was, in fact, anxious to see Nika, standing still, tail waggling, mouth hanging open as she panted, tongue flopping out the side and dripping to the ground. She let out a single bark, prompting a smile from Nika, and Warrick unwound his arm from hers, flattening a hand against her back to guide her into the small pen. He threw a quick thanks to the guard, who swung the door closed behind them and wrapped the chain loosely around the post of the door and main fence, securing but not locking it. Nika let go of Warrick, stretching out an arm to feel for a link of fencing to steady her as she sat on the ground, Shasta calmly draping herself across Nika's lap. A touched smile slipped onto Warrick's lips as Nika buried her fingers in the dog's coat, leaning over to plant kisses on her head as she clung to the canine, taking a silent moment to catch up.

"Did she behave for you?" Nika asked, turning toward Warrick. "When you found her, I mean?"

"Well, she scared the crap outta me when she jumped out of the bushes, but once I said her name, she was fine," he said, crouching next to Nika to give Shasta a friendly scratching. Nika nodded, leaning forward to rest her head on Shasta's back.

"You think she's okay here?" Nika asked after a while.

"Oh, yeah," Warrick said. "They take pretty good care of everyone here. Clean out the pens every day, and all." Nika nodded, turning her attention back to her companion. They sat there in silence for a while, probably a half-hour before Nika stood, reluctantly letting go of Shasta. "I want to go to a store," she said, leaning over sideways to pet Shasta some more as the three of them stood there. "Wal-mart or something. Check out the smells."

"We can do that," Warrick said, checking his watch. Nick hadn't called yet, probably still buried under the mountain of evidence bags they'd collected from Nika's house.

"I hate to keep you longer, but I figured one of you would want to go with me. You can trade me off to your partner if you'd like to," she said with a small smile.

"Well, I'm here now," Warrick said with a shrug. "No sense dragging you all the way back to HQ to interrupt him."

"Evidence?"

"Yeah," Warrick said. Nika nodded, reaching out for Warrick. He took her hand, waiting until she had a grasp on his arm before pushing the gate open.

"Bye, Shasta," Nika said, receiving a small whine. "I'll see you tomorrow." Another whine, and the guard closed up, Warrick and Nika leaving him to chain and padlock the gate behind them.

xxx

"It was more like this one," Nika said, replacing the cap on a bottle of shampoo. "Not exactly the same, but close to it." Warrick nodded, turning back to the shelf of merchandise to look for something similar. "What is this?"

"Uh…" Warrick glanced over her shoulder. "Pantene."

"Any special formula?"

"Nope. Just Pantene." Nika nodded, running her fingers over the bottle with her free hand.

"Try the shampoo and conditioner kind. Maybe that's what it was," she suggested, tucking her hair behind her ear as he took the bottle from her, replacing it and handing her another. She searched out the cap and removed it, holding the opening a few inches from her nose to sniff. With a sigh, she shook her head, replacing the cap.

"It could be a specialty type," Warrick said, taking the bottle from her and looking it over. "Salon."

"Could be," she said with a shrug. "This isn't working," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Maybe it wasn't shampoo."

"Laundry aisle?" She grinned.

"Laundry aisle," she said with a nod. He took her hand, and she let him lead her around the store to the laundry detergent. A half hour later, she still hadn't picked out the scent. Finally, she shook her head, burying her fingers in her hair. "It's not here," she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"It's okay," Warrick said gently. "We'll find it. I mean, it's not like there's a database of smells we can search through to find this guy." He got a quiet snicker and a tiny smile, but that was it. "We'll find him, Nika." She nodded.

"Can we go now?" she asked quietly. He looked her over, obviously disappointed in herself for not being able to isolate the scent she couldn't put her finger on.

"Yeah, we can go," he said, nodding a little as he reached for her. "What's next?"

"Can I go home?" He stopped walking, turning to look at her. She blinked a few times before looking up at him, her eyes somehow finding his. Pale green, bright but tired, stared back at him with almost a deer-in-headlights expression. "If I'm there, I might remember better."

"I'll have Brass meet us there," he said after a moment. She nodded, and Warrick made the call as they walked out to the parking lot.

xxx

Nick could barely see straight, exhaustion getting in his way as he went through the evidence for the umpteenth time. DNA wouldn't be back for a couple more days, most likely, and Warrick wasn't around to help him. He'd called a while ago, telling Nick he and Brass would be at Shaughnessy's place to go over it with her, and Nick had hoped he'd be able to give them some kind of clue as to what to look for, but he hadn't found one yet. After the fingerprints checked out, though Noble was still a suspect, he wasn't sure what to look for. The hairs they'd found in the hallway were still with Greg, awaiting DNA profiling, and one of the lab techs was working on identifying some of the partial prints they'd found weren't a match to Noble or Shaughnessy. The swath of material he'd pulled from the doorjamb was flannel, but he didn't have anything to compare it to. Warrick had been the one to go through Shaughnessy's closet, and he said she didn't have any flannel – just jeans, solid colored shirts of various sleeve lengths, and a few jackets, none of which were flannel. He sighed, pausing to rub his eyes. Footsteps in the hallway drew his attention, and he looked up, smiling warily as Warrick entered the room.

"How goes it?" Nick only shrugged, watching Warrick pick through the array of evidence bags strewn around the table.

"Techs are working on unknown prints, DNA's still in limbo, and I don't have anything to compare that flannel to," Nick said. "But… footprints in the back yard came back to Doctor Martins, pretty popular style. There's some wearing on the heel of the left shoe, so if we get a suspect and a warrant for his shoes, we might find something there." Warrick nodded. "How's the vic?"

"She's frustrated," Warrick sighed, dropping into a chair. "Couldn't narrow down any more than the Ivory soap."

"Shampoo maybe?"

"Smelled every bottle in the damn store," Warrick said with a quiet chuckle. "And laundry detergent, conditioner, soap, dish detergent, anything soapy." Nick clicked his tongue. "Yvette's still working on the sketch?"

"Yeah, she called a while ago," Nick said. "Said she'd probably be done the day after tomorrow." Warrick nodded. "I did a background check."

"On Nika?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah," Nick said, ruffling through papers. "Lives alone, parents deceased a few years ago, driver's license expired in 1995 and was never renewed." Warrick did some quick math – she certainly didn't _look_ 31. "Went to a school for the blind, took a couple of classes at the community college, financial support through a number of foundations for the blind and disabled," Nick continued, "Job at a Braille bookstore, regular stops at the corner store for groceries, makes visits to schools for the blind with her dog…" he trailed off with a sigh. "Nothing to suggest a previous problem or any real reason for someone to want to hurt her."

"What about her parents?" Warrick asked.

"Both immigrants, mother was Russian, father was Irish. Naturalized back in the 50's as kids. Other than that," Nick said with a shrug, "nothing."

"Could be random," Warrick suggested. Nick nodded absently. "Talk to Grissom?"

"Yeah, do that," Nick said, his eyes meeting Warrick's. "See if he can come up with something." Both looked up as footsteps pounded down the hallway, an intern appearing in the doorway, breathless.

"Fingerprints. The partials," he gasped. Warrick and Nick glanced at each other, both turning back to the intern simultaneously. "All four of them are a match in AFIS. Same person. Priors."  
"What priors?"

"Breaking and entering, assault, rape, and attempted murder," the intern huffed, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "Come take a look." Both Nick and Warrick launched from their chairs, following the intern down the hallway. An angry face stared back at them from the computer screen, its border flashing red to indicate that AFIS had, indeed, matched this person to the partials recovered from the scene.

"How many points of reference?" Warrick asked, printing the screen to give a copy to Brass.

"Three of the four partials had six points in common with this guy," the intern, Joe, said. "But one had eleven." Both CSIs looked at him in surprise. "Yeah. It's definitive."

"I'll find Brass," Nick said, already heading out the door, printout in hand.

"I'll call Yvette," Warrick said. "See if we can put a rush on that sketch." And to the intern: "thanks, man." Joe only nodded, printing a copy for the casefile.

"I still have to have the boss check it by hand," he said, "but when AFIS matches 11 points of reference, it's pretty much in the bag."

"No mistakes," Warrick said, waiting for Yvette to pick up. "We don't have much else." Joe nodded, just as Yvette picked up. "Yvette, Warrick Brown. Can I put a rush on that sketch? We've got someone to compare it with." Joe noticed a tiny smile tugging at the corners of Warrick's lips. "Great. Tommorrow would be perfect." He snapped his phone shut. "Thanks, Joe," he called over his shoulder, ducking out of the room to find Nick and Brass. He caught them just as they were about to open the front doors of the building.

"You get a hold of Yvette?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, she's bringing the sketch tomorrow morning," Warrick said. "Do we know where this guy is?"

"Got an address. We were getting ready to head over to the courthouse for a warrant," Brass said.

"Where is it?"

"4315 Thorndale," Nick said. "Corner of Torrey Pines and Spring Valley." Warrick nodded.

"Want us to sit on it and you meet us there with the warrant?" Brass asked.

"Could you do that?"

"Sure. See you there." The three took off, Warrick splitting off toward the courthouse as Brass and Nick climbed into Brass' Taurus and pulled away. Not twenty minutes later, Warrick pulled the Tahoe in behind the Taurus and hopped out, holding a sheet of paper through the window for Brass, who glanced over it, nodded once, and exited the car.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," he said, tucking the warrant into his inside jacket pocket. "But we can find out for sure." Crickets chirped in the evening air, the sunset slowly darkening over the plateau behind them as they crossed the street, the sky bright orange and pink. Brass knocked, rung the doorbell, and turned to the CSIs with a shrug. "I'll put a uniform on it," he said with a sigh. "You all head back to HQ and wrap this thing up. I'll wait here until patrol gets here."

"You got it," Nick said, heading toward Warrick's Tahoe. As they steered out of the neighborhood, Nick turned to Warrick. "So what's she like?"

"Who?"

"The vic." Warrick glanced at Nick quickly before concentrating a little more than usual on his driving.

"You've met her," Warrick said after a beat.

"Yeah, but just for a little while. You've spent the whole damn day with her." Nick's voice held a lilt Warrick wasn't sure how to interpret.

"She's trying," he said. "She's convinced she's missing something, or forgetting something that's crucial."

"I doubt that," Nick said. "She seems pretty on top of things." Warrick nodded, his mind returning to all the things she'd done so far to push this case along – saving the blood in her mouth, her description of the guy, going through the feature reference models for a sketch, sniffing every bottle of suds-makers in the store, and returning to the house. "Casey said she was a sharp cookie."

"She was right," Warrick said with a nod.

"Think she's disappointed she couldn't just tell us who did it?" Nick asked after a long pause.

"I think she just wants her life back," Warrick said quietly. "She strikes me as the kind of person who needs her independence, and she doesn't have that now." Nick turned to him. "Not without Shasta, and not staying with Casey, where she doesn't know the neighborhood as well as her own." He shook his head a little. "I think she's just frustrated that it's more difficult for her to tell us who it was, not that she can't."

"Warrick, I'm not sure about this sketch," Nick admitted. "There's big difference between seeing someone and feeling someone, and I'm not sure the DA will go for it."

"We'll see," Warrick said. Nick nodded, turning back to his window.

"She's pretty for a Russian," Nick commented.

"For a Russian," Warrick repeated, snorting. "What's that supposed to mean?" Nick just grinned, shaking his head.

xxx

"Casey?" Nika heard her friend stop milling around the kitchen, the apartment suddenly silent. "What's Warrick look like?"

"You haven't seen him yet?" Casey asked, referring to Nika's adopted sense of sight, through her fingers.

"Well, yeah, but just once," Nika said, scooting over a little as Casey sat next to her on the couch. "At the hospital."

"How'd he take it?"

"Well," Nika said with a shrug. "I think it surprised him a little, maybe." She took a breath and paused, holding it as she turned toward Casey. "What's Nick look like? I haven't seen him."

"Jock. Frat-boy type." Nika smiled a little. "Dark hair, brown eyes, square jaw. He has really intense eyes, Nika," she said. "Dark chocolate."

"And Captain Brass?"

"He's older," Casey said, "Maybe late forties. Balding a little, round faced, and he looks as sarcastic as he seems, you know?" Nika nodded a little. "He just looks like he has a dry sense of humor. But he's pleasant." Casey sighed, reaching for a glass of water on the end table. "What do you think Warrick looks like, based on what you saw?"

"I think he's handsome," Nika said quietly, fighting the blush creeping into her cheeks. "But, you know, it's harder to tell. I mean, spending so much time with him, you know, he's nice. I like him and all." She took a breath, pausing, and Casey let her think. "They say people you like for their personalities seem more physically attractive. Do you think that's true?"

"Maybe," Casey said with a shrug. "But you're right." Nika smiled a little. "You know, you notice things about people the rest of us don't," she said gently. "You have a gift with people, seeing them for who they are because you can't see what they look like." Nika's smile fell, but she nodded, silently agreeing. She knew that. "But your fingers don't lie, sweetie. If you're asking me because you're second-guessing yourself about working with that sculptor, you shouldn't. Second-guess yourself, I mean." She sighed, taking Nika's hand. "You know that even sighted people can be wrong about their descriptions. So if this sketch doesn't pan out, well… you didn't get a good feel, you were being attacked. Christ." Nika nodded.

"I know."

"All that matters is you did the best you could."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Warrick climbed out of the Tahoe, stifling a yawn, though he'd been up for a while. He and Nick had called it an early night last night – this morning – so catch up on sleep. Yvette should be arriving shortly, hopefully with a finished sketch, but Brass hadn't called them yet to let them know if they'd picked up their suspect, Richard Deaver. He moseyed into the building, heading straight for the break room for coffee.

"Morning, Cath," he said, nodding at the older woman sitting at the table with her own steaming mug.

"Morning. How's the case?"

"Not sure yet. We're kind of waiting on some things, but hopefully we'll get somewhere today," Warrick said with a nonchalant shrug.

"The sketch?" He glanced at her quickly, reaching for the coffee pot.

"Yeah. You talked to Nick?"

"And Grissom," Catherine said. "You know, it might be a problem for the DA to convince a jury that sketch is accurate, even if it's a portrait of your suspect." Warrick nodded, taking a seat next to her. "I'm assuming you have some other evidence."

"Yeah, yeah," Warrick said. "Fingerprints got us a warrant to search the guy's house for something made out of flannel, which we found at the scene, and boots."

"Footprints?"

"In the dirt, yeah."

"You know…" Catherine trailed off, thinking for a moment as Warrick raised his brows at her. "You could always do a reference sketch if she's up for it." His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head, not following. "Have her pick out features of someone else we can use as a control?" Warrick's expression changed from confused to inspired, and he nodded slowly. "Maybe one of you guys? Someone she's not actually _seen_ before to prove that her fingers are as accurate as any other witness's eyes."

"If not more accurate," Warrick said, still nodding. Catherine smiled, raising her coffee cup in a silent salute. "I'll talk to Yvette about it when she comes in."

"Yvette Chao? The sculptor?"

"Yeah, I got her name from a professor over at WLVU's anthropology department. You know her?"

"Her work, yeah," Catherine said. "She's amazing."

"Who's amazing?" Both looked up at the door, Grissom standing in the hallway, head turned toward them.

"Our sketch artist-slash-sculptor," Warrick said. "Catherine knows her work, evidently."

"The one you got from the guy over at the university?" Grissom asked, joining them in the break room. Warrick nodded. "How'd that work out?"

"Don't know yet. We got a suspect, just waiting on her to bring the sketch by to see if there's any similarities," Warrick said. "Think it'll go over well?"

"I'm not sure," Grissom said, wearing his pensive face. "I'm not sure if a precedent's been set for this kind of evidence."

"Well, Cath suggested we do a control sketch. Have our vic do one of one of us to see how accurate she is," Warrick said with a shrug. Grissom smiled a little.

"When one sense dies the others learn to compensate," he said quietly, nodding a little. "You could try it. Just remember that it would be considered evidence, whether it helped or hindered your case." Warrick nodded. "But I think it's a good idea." And with that, he disappeared down the hallway.

"I hadn't thought about that," Warrick said quietly.

"Well, you _do_ need to be able to convince a jury, even if the DA buys it," Catherine said, standing. "And I have a dead body awaiting autopsy. Have fun." Warrick nodded at her, watching her leave before heading down the hallway. Nick met him halfway to the fingerprint lab.

"Sketch is here," he said. "Yvette's waiting for us." They both headed in that direction, meeting a grinning Yvette in the main lobby. She held out a manila envelope, pencil smudges on the outside.

"I sprayed it to seal everything," she said. "It's good to go."

"Thanks, Yvette," Warrick said, opening the envelope and removing the sketch. "He look familiar to you?" he asked, holding the sketch out to Nick. Nick's eyes widened as he took the sketch.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. Yvette only beamed.

"I realize I'm happy about the art of it, but I'm happy to help," she said. "Think you can use that?"

"Definitely," Warrick said, shaking the small woman's hand. "Thanks very much."

"If you need me again, just let me know," she said with a shrug, reaching for a messenger bag on a seat next to her.

"Actually…" Warrick started, glancing at Nick, whose eyes shot over to him. "We might." Yvette nodded, and Warrick suggested they move the conversation into the lab. All three took a seat around the break room table, Nick doctoring his coffee. Yvette, a short, thin Asian woman with flawless skin, large, brown eyes, and a stunning smile, twisted the cap off a bottle of water, and Warrick just looked over the sketch again. "I've asked around," Warrick started explaining, "and no one's really sure how well a blind woman's composite sketch will go over with the DA or a jury." Nick glanced at him, somewhat surprised.

"I understand that," Yvette said quietly. "But it shouldn't be too hard to convince someone that Nika has a special talent for recognition despite her lack of eyesight."

"Especially if we have her do another sketch of someone she's not seen before, but we can positively identify. Tape the session and submit it all as evidence," Warrick said, watching the light go on over Nick's head.

"Yeah… yeah, that would work," Nick said, tapping the table with an index finger. "Videotape her picking everything out, and set up a camera in your studio, Yvette, to show them that it's not fixed in any way – that you're just going off the models the vic picks out." Yvette's eyes narrowed at Nick's use of the term 'the vic', but she didn't say anything. She took a breath and leaned forward, clasping her hands together as she licked her lips.

"There's quite a bit of creative license that goes into this," she said slowly. "I'm sure it could be argued that I, as the artist, somehow influence the outcome of the sketch, especially if it's someone I've seen as well."

"So we won't tell you which one of use she's profiling," Warrick said. "We'll give her a few seconds to do her thing, in another room, on tape, of course, showing that you're not there, and then take her in to work with you so neither of you knows for sure which one of us it is." Yvette nodded slowly.

"That could work," she said. "When do we do this?" Nick and Warrick glanced at each other.

"You talked to Grissom about this?" Nick asked.

"It was Catherine's idea, and Grissom put his nickel in the pot, but the whole separate room thing I just came up with," Warrick said with a shrug. "We can run it past him."

"Let's do that," Nick said, nodding. "You talk to Grissom, I'll give Casey a call."

xxx

Nika sat in a chair in an interrogation room, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea. She wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans, probably two sizes bigger than skin-tight, and a brown and army green tee shirt, brown Birkenstocks on her feet. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, the layers in the front falling from their place tucked behind her ears. As usual, she wore no makeup on her flawless, creamy skin, and no jewelry except for a thin, silver chain around her neck. The door opened, and she jumped a little, turning toward the sound.

"Nika?" Warrick asked. "Are you ready?" She nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she stood. "How long would you say you had to see your attacker the other night?" Warrick asked quietly. She blinked quickly a few times, shaking her head a little.

"I don't know, maybe thirty seconds?" she stammered, brows furrowed.

"Okay, we'll give you thirty seconds with your subject," he said, standing behind her and taking her hands in each of his. "And then we'll go ahead and start the sketch."

"But there was a day between the actual—"

"We don't have to replicate it exactly," Warrick said quietly, breath on the side of her neck raising goosebumps on her skin. She trembled slightly – he wasn't sure why – but she nodded.

"Okay." She turned one of her hands in his, squeezing twice. "I can do this." Warrick nodded to the subject, standing less than a foot away from Nika, nearly toe to toe, and lifted her hands, placing her palms on the subject's cheeks. Her fingers immediately went to work, Warrick following them with intrigue as they gracefully traced the slopes of his coworkers' features, starting at the forehead and moving to the base of the neck and back up again. Warrick glanced at his watch, and she pulled her hands away with five seconds left, nodding.

Warrick hadn't given her any clue as to who this person was – no names, no gender, nothing. Her subject moved away, and Warrick led her down the hall to where Yvette waited, Nick ready to start the video. Nika took a seat at the table, Nick started the camera, and Grissom watched with interest as the process started again, anxious to see the sketch of the mystery person Warrick had chosen when Yvette finished it tomorrow. His pocket chirped, and he noticed Warrick and Nick both look at their phones as well. The three met in the hall, none saying a word as they headed to the interrogation rooms.

xxx

Yvette smiled at Nika as the woman concentrated, a pair of lips in one hand, her other pouring over the details slowly. Nika started to put the model down, but stopped, running her fingers over it again.

"No, that's not it," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"You want to take a break? Get your mind off it for a while?" Yvette asked, putting the model lips back in the collection of rejects.

"I'm not sure if that would be a good idea," Nika said, taking the next model Yvette placed in her fingers. "With taping and all. I don't know if that would mess anything up."

"We can ask Warrick and Nick when they get back." Nika nodded, her brows furrowing as she traced the model lips.

"That's it," she said. "Wait… yeah, that's it."

"Good," Yvette said. "Back to the noses."

"Aww… I hate picking noses," Nika whined, a good-natured smile touching her lips. "They're harder than the others." Yvette laughed, a light, lilting sound, sliding the tray of noses toward Nika. "You know," Nika continued, "I went to your show over at the museum in Caesar's Palace last year." She could practically feel Yvette's grin radiating off the sculptor from across the table. "I loved that one of the nude ballet dancer. The one that was kind of abstract?"

"Oh, that was my favorite," Yvette gasped, still grinning from ear to ear. "I got so many offers on that piece, and I just couldn't sell it."

"It was beautiful," Nika said. "I've been to several shows, actually, and your work is my favorite so far."

"Well, thank you," Yvette said, blushing a little. "I'm glad you like it." Neither noticed Warrick standing in the doorway. Nika lifted her hands and rapidly traced the collection of noses lined up in the tray, removing several and placing them in a pile to her right.

"I always liked art," she said quietly, continuing her initial nose selection. "I always wanted to do pottery when I was a kid, but my mom was just convinced I'd make a huge mess." Yvette smiled, her eyes finally flicking to Warrick as he entered the room quietly, shaking his head with a small smile. Nika pushed the tray away and started on her collection one at a time, the first quickly discarded. "I used to dig in the back yard and fill flower pots with dirt and water, make little mud dishes and let them dry in the sun." She shrugged, turning her head slightly as Warrick neared her. "They'd crumble the next day when I tried to pick them up." She smiled a little. "Hi, Warrick."

"Hey," he said, stifling a laugh. "You caught me."

"Sneak," she snickered, shaking her head. He touched her shoulder gently as he passed, taking his chair beside her. "I'm picking noses again," she announced, turning one toward him before moving it to the reject collection. She pursed her lips together. "Okay, Yvette," she said, picking up another model for inspection. "I'm pretty sure our faceless friend here was male. Needed a shave, but wasn't scruffy. More like a long day, double shift, maybe. Five o'clock shadow." Yvette nodded, picking up a pencil and scratching on a notepad Warrick had dug up for her. "I did notice he didn't have a cleft in his chin at all. Not even a little one."

"Good," Yvette said. "I can work with that."

"And his face was long, not round. Not really oval, but not really heart-shaped. A combination of both, maybe." Nika sighed, discarding another nose. Three were left. Warrick's eyes shifted between Nika's face and her fingers, both seeming to concentrate equally as hard. Her fingers, long and slender, lingered over this nose, tracing it several times before she placed it flat on the table, so that the nose faced her as though it belonged to the table. "This is it," she said, nodding slowly. Yvette added the nose to the pile of features Nika had chosen.

"Anything else you can think of?" Yvette asked, jotting down the numbers written in permanent marker on the back of the chosen features before placing them in a small box and gathering the others to replace in their respective trays.

"He had scars on his cheeks, like small acne scars or something," Nika said. "Not a lot of them." She touched her own face, indicating where she remembered the marks. Yvette quickly sketched the locations and flipped a page. "And thick eyebrows. Mad scientist sort, but not bushy, really." Warrick smiled. "Um… I think that's it."

"Okay, I think we're good," Yvette said, stacking the trays and placing her notepad on top. "I'll get back to my studio and start on this. I should have it done tomorrow morning. Drop it by in the afternoon?"

"That'd be great," Warrick said. Yvette nodded, patted Nika on the shoulder, and left, the trays of clay models under an arm. "You okay?" he asked Nika, standing to shut the camera off. Nick had already set up one at Yvette's studio and showed her how to operate it.

"Nervous," she said with a facial shrug. "That I'll be wrong."

"Don't worry about it," Warrick said. "I'm sure it'll be fine." She nodded, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Warrick cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "We, uh, have a suspect."

"Yeah?" she sounded hopeful, her face lighting up as she turned to face him.

"Does the name Richard Deaver sound familiar?" Her brows furled, and she shook her head. Warrick nodded, leaning forward on his elbows. "Think you're up for a lineup?"

"Now?" she asked, a little startled.

"Yeah."

"I don't know," she said, rubbing her fingers. "How long did I spend with Yvette?"

"About four hours." She sighed.

"I need to take my mind off faces for a while. This latest one is stuck in my head," she said quietly. "I have to get away from it for a while."

"Okay, that's fine," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"How sure are you that this is the right guy?" she asked after a long silence.

"Pretty sure," Warrick said. "Found his fingerprints there." Nika blinked a few times, her brows furrowed. "We've got a warrant for his clothes and shoes. Nick's going over them now." She nodded, still silent. "Look, you don't have to do this today. We can arrange it for tomorrow."

"No, it's –"

"That'll give us some time to get the rest of the evidence processed and give us more to work with when we question him," Warrick continued.

"Warrick, I just need a break," she said firmly. He nodded, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet.

"Yeah, okay," Warrick said. "You hungry?"

"A little," she said, shrugging.

"There's a deli across the street." Nika nodded, but she seemed to only be half-listening. Warrick didn't press, instead leading her out into the sun.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Brass and Nick looked up as the door opened, Warrick entering first, Nika hiding behind him. Warrick nodded, closing the door behind him, and Brass and Nick turned back to the line of men against the wall.

"Okay, here's how it works. You stand still, don't move, don't talk, don't even sneeze until this is over, got it?" Brass asked, eyeing each of the men individually. They all nodded, some staring at the girl next to Warrick. "Alright, we're good," Brass said, nodding again to Warrick. He steered her to stand in front of the first man, lifting both of her hands to the man's cheeks. Nick and Brass supervised, watching both the identification process and the men in the line as she shook her head and Warrick moved her to the next. Behind the glass, Grissom and an assistant District Attorney he'd not worked with before watched as well.

"She's brave," the ADA, Justin Ruben commented. "Most lineups are done in anonymity. Suspects don't see the witness." Grissom only nodded. "How sure are we this will work?"

"I don't know yet," Grissom said. "We're still waiting on the control of the experiment to get finished."  
"The sketch of one of your CSIs," Ruben said.

"I'm not sure if it was a CSI or a lab tech, or even a secretary," Grissom said. "Only Warrick and the subject know who it was."

"When will we find out?" Ruben asked.

"The artist is supposed to bring the sketch and the video tape tomorrow." Ruben nodded.

Inside the room, Nika had worked her way to the third man, quickly shaking her head and moving to the fourth. Only two were left. Warrick lifted trembling hands to the man's face, and Nika stiffened, moving her fingers slowly as the man stared down at her, eyes narrowed. She stepped backwards suddenly, slamming into Warrick's chest so hard he bumped into the table, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her from falling. She turned away from the man, burying her face in Warrick's chest.

"Get me out of here," she whispered, trembling so hard against him he had trouble holding her up. "Get me out!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. Warrick nodded at Brass, who opened the door, and Warrick maneuvered her out of the room. "Outside, please," she whispered. Warrick nodded, guiding her down the hallway, but as soon as she felt the heat emanating through the windows, she broke away from him, pushing through both sets of doors and jogging until she felt grass under her feet, having been to HQ enough times to know the lobby and front lawn of the property. She collapsed onto her knees under a sapling, sobs racking her body. Warrick jogged to her side, ignoring the stares of passersby. Nick appeared seconds later, but Warrick held up a hand, shaking his head, so he stopped a few feet away. As Warrick tended to the hysterical witness, Brass stopped at Nick's side.

"We need that sketch," Brass commented quietly. Concern written all over his face, his jaw clenched, Nick only nodded.

xxx

Casey sighed, checking in on Nika, who'd spent the last twelve hours in a darkened bedroom. Her home had been released the day before, and Casey decided to stay with her until the case was over. Jason Noble had returned early this morning to replace the sliding glass door as Casey helped Nika move back in, Shasta supervising Noble's work with a constant, rhythmic pant. As soon as he was done, Shasta retreated to Nika's room to watch over her owner. Neither had heard anything from the investigative team since Warrick had carried her up to Casey's apartment yesterday and brought the news of the house being released. Nika had said nothing as she shuffled into the apartment, curling up on the couch with her blanket, and Casey had only asked Warrick, as politely as she could manage, to leave. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang. Even Jason jumped, having decided to stay for lemonade after finishing the door. Casey reached out, picking up the phone.

"Hello?"

_Casey? It's Nick Stokes._

"What now?" Nick was quiet for a moment.

_I just wanted to let Nika know that we got the guy._

"I think that's pretty obvious," Casey snapped. "She told you that yesterday."

_I realize that,_ Nick said gently. _What I mean is that we have the evidence the DA needs to press charges. Arraignment is tomorrow, and it looks like he'll plead._

"Which means what, exactly?" She tried, but couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice.

_Meaning both he and his attorney know there's enough evidence to convict him, so he'll probably plead guilty_, Nick explained. Casey didn't say anything. _Meaning no trial.__ We'll find out tomorrow if this thing is over._

"Tomorrow, huh?" Casey asked. "I'm sure Nika will be glad to hear about that. If she'll come out of her fucking room, that is." Even Jason looked up at that, surprised at the woman's tone.

_Is everything okay_? Nick asked after a beat. Casey sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly. "I'm just frustrated. Nika's still terrified. She hasn't come out of her room since we got here this morning."

_She's not going to want to be alone for a while,Casey,_ Nick said. _I know it seems like a bad idea, but we explained everything to her. How this was different from other lineups, and she still wanted to do it. _Casey stifled a sniffle. _She's incredibly brave, Casey. She chose to do this, okay? She did what she thought she had to do, and she helped our case come together._ Nick paused, and Casey closed her eyes, brushing tears from her cheeks. _We couldn't have done this without her. Tell her that._

"I will."

_Okay. If you need anything – anything at all – just let us know, okay?_

"Okay."

_Alright. One of us will call tomorrow and let you know how things turned out,_ Nick said. _Probably Captain Brass._

"Okay, thanks," Casey said, the edge gone from her voice.

_Y'all take care._ Casey waited until Nick hung up before clicking the phone off and replacing it. Nika shuffled into the room.

"Who was that?" she asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Casey opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to think of what to say.

"It was Nick," she said finally. "Stokes." Nika nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle.

"And?"

"The arraignment is tomorrow," Casey said, watching Nika's brows furl. "They think he'll plead guilty." Nika nodded.

"Good," she said, paddling into the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" Casey asked, following.

"Not really, but I will be," Nika said with a shrug, opening a cabinet and withdrawing a plastic cup. Casey watched as she filled the glass with tap water, her finger curled around the lip of the cup to feel when it was nearly full. She took a long swallow, starting toward the living room.

"I wish you'd talk to me," Casey said quietly as Nika passed. Nika only sent a dirty look her way, shaking her head. As she moved to the couch, she bumped into Jason's knee, immediately reaching out to run her fingers down his face.

"Hi, Jason."

"Nika."

"How'd the door go?"

"It's all in and working like new," Jason said with a touch of pride. "I took the liberty of getting double paned, treated glass. Harder to break." Nika managed a weak smile.

"Appreciate it," she said, a barely noticeable quiver in her voice. "Shasta keep you company?"

"Oh yeah," Jason laughed. "She made sure I did it right." Nika nodded, chuckling a little. He glanced at Casey quickly, then toward the door. "I should probably head home," he said quietly, standing. Nika reached out, patting his arm.

"Thanks, Jason."

"Anytime." And then Casey and Nika were alone, Nika sipping her water and Casey watching her, looking like she wanted to say something.

"Casey," Nika said finally, "I know you want me to talk to you about everything, but I don't work that way." Casey sighed, dropping into a chair across the room from the couch. "I appreciate everything you do for me, helping me and all, but…" she trailed off, shaking her head with a small smile. "Hell, you've known me for years. You know I don't wear my heart on my sleeve."

"Tell me _something_ then," Casey pleaded. "I know you're not fine, but you're still lying to me."

"I said I wasn't okay but that I _would_ be fine," Nika retorted.

"I can't help you if you don't _talk _to me," Casey said, her voice trembling.

"What do you want me to say, Case?" Nika asked, her voice rising. "That I was scared shitless? I _was. _But I did what I had to do. I've been under a lot of stress during this whole thing, and I fucking broke, okay? I don't need a goddamn shrink, I need for this to be over. Is that so hard to understand?" Casey stared, mouth agape. Nika shook her head with a frustrated snort.

"I'm just trying to help," Casey said quietly.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't need your fucking help," Nika snapped, instantly regretting it. "Casey, I'm sorry."

"No, no," she stammered, getting to her feet. "Maybe you're right." Nika sighed, Casey sniffling as she gathered her things. "You've got a job, a dog, neighbors who care about you. Maybe you don't need me."

"Casey—"

"Captain Brass will call tomorrow and let you know how the arraignment went," Casey continued, going to the door and pulling it open.

"Casey—"

"And Nick asked me to tell you they couldn't have done it without you," she finished, her voice cracking. "I'll still call every now and then, okay? Take care, sweetie." The door slammed, and Nika swore, dodging the chair as she jogged to the door and yanked it open, Shasta on her heels.

"Casey!" A car pulling out of the drive and down the street was the only answer. "Shit." Ignoring trembling hands, she went back in the house, locking the door behind her. She just stood there for a moment, chewing on her lip. A moment later, Shasta moved out of her way as she went to the kitchen counter, snatching up the phone. After getting information from 69 and committing the number to memory, she dialed, trembling as the phone rang once, twice…

_Stokes._

"Nick, it's Annika Shaughnessy," she said hurriedly. "Casey left."

_What?_

"We got in an argument and she left. I'm fine, I… I just… she was really upset when she left, and I don't know if she'll get home okay," Nika blurted.

_Okay, calm down. Are you alone?_ Nick asked.

"Yeah, besides Shasta. But we got the door fixed today, so I'm fine. Double panes, treated, locked. Front door's locked. I'm fine," Nika insisted.

_Okay, here's what I'm going to do, _Nick said. _Captain Brass and I will go out to Casey's and make sure she's okay. I'll send Warrick with a uniformed officer to wait with you until we get this sorted out, okay?_

"I'm fine, Nick, just check on Casey," Nika said.

_Humor me, willya?_ His voice held a smile, and she rolled her eyes. _Give us a few minutes to get there, okay? _She finally gave in and agreed, plopping on the couch, Shasta occupying her lap.

xxx

_Warrick._

"I just got to sleep, man," Warrick groaned, rolling over to look at the clock. Seven at night. "What is it?"

_Casey left Nika alone. Argument, evidently._ Warrick was awake now, already reaching for yesterday's jeans. _Brass and I are heading over to Casey's to make sure she gets home okay. Nika said she was really upset. _

"I'll grab a uniform on the way. Head over to Nika's," Warrick said, switching his phone to speaker to pull on a clean shirt.

_I'll give you a ring when I know something._

"Same," Warrick said, flipping the phone shut to pull on his shoes. As he slid his wallet into his pocket and snatched his keys, he dialed the precinct, identifying himself and requesting an officer meet him while he pulled his door closed and locked it, taking the stairs two at a time down to the parking lot. He drove like a bat out of hell, hopping out of the Tahoe just as the uniform was pulling up to the curb in a black and white.

"What's goin' on?" the officer asked.

"We got a witness in here, she's blind," Warrick explained. "Had a run-in with the suspect yesterday in a lineup."

"How'd she do a lineup if she's blind?" the officer – his shirt said Rizzo – asked.

"Face to face," Warrick said. Officer Rizzo let out a low whistle. "Yeah, so we don't want her alone." Rizzo nodded. "Her friend, caretaker, I guess, left a while ago. Argument," Warrick explained. "We're just trying to make sure everyone's okay."

"What do you need from me?"

"I'm going to get some information here," Warrick said. "I want you to stay at the door until we get this taken care of. Figure out what's what."

"Sure thing." Warrick nodded, and Rizzo followed him up the walk. Warrick knocked twice, smirked at Shasta's quiet woof, and waited as the locks turned. "Hey there," he said quietly. Nika immediately smiled. "This is Officer Rizzo," he said, and Nika nodded, reaching out. Warrick sent Rizzo a look, silently telling him to stand still, as Nika found his face and 'saw' him in her way. Rizzo blinked a few times, but didn't say anything. "He's going to sit outside until we get this sorted out."

"I told you—"

"I know," he said, nodding to Rizzo, who pulled up a square of porch and sat to keep watch. "You're fine." Rizzo allowed himself a quiet chuckle as the door shut behind him.

"There's lemonade in the fridge. Beer. Help yourself," she said, gesturing toward the kitchen. He stood in the entryway, looking around the house. She'd cleaned up a bit, or someone had. Her beige couches were empty except for Nika, Shasta, and a few pillows, and the matching chair that had been toppled last he'd seen was righted, put back in its place. No coffee table, barstools pushed in under the breakfast bar, kitchen table clear, and patio door replaced. He stepped into the kitchen, walking to the door to check it out. "Jason put that in this morning," she said. "Said it was double paned and treated to make it stronger." She smirked. "Did he lie to me?"

"No, it's a good door," Warrick said, turning back to her. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

"Not really." Warrick nodded, taking up the chair across from Nika. She sighed, stroking Shasta's head, the dog's chin propped on her thigh. "It was just an argument. She was mad because I wasn't spilling my guts about how I was _feeling_ and what I was _thinking_. I called her on it." She shook her head. "Both of us said shit we didn't mean, and she left."

"And then what?"

"I came back inside, locked the door, and called Nick," Nika said.

"How'd you know his number?"

"Well, since no one seems to print their business cards in Braille," she said with a smile, "I remembered he'd called when I woke up. Talked to Casey. No one called after that so—"

"Star sixty-nine," Warrick guessed. Nika nodded. "Nice." She shrugged.

"Have you heard from Captain Brass yet?"

"No, not yet," Warrick said, checking to make sure his phone was still clipped to his belt.

"She should be home by now," Nika said quietly.

"She may have gone out, you know," Warrick said gently. "Clear her head."

"I don't know," Nika shrugged. "Maybe."

"Why would she just run off like that? Did she usually bail during an argument?" Warrick asked, rubbing his forehead.

"I told you. We both said some things we didn't mean, and it upset her. Pissed her off, maybe. Hurt her, I don't know," Nika sounded slightly defensive. "But it's not the first time we had a disagreement."

"Hmm." Nika raised a brow, but didn't say anything, instead sighing and standing, Shasta letting out a displeased sound but settling down when Nika patted her on the head.

"Get you something?" Nika asked, heading into the kitchen.

"I'm fine, thanks," Warrick roared through a yawn.

"Nick woke you, huh?" Warrick only grunted his agreement, watching her pop the top off a beer bottle, dropping it in the trashcan. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"You always babysit your witnesses?" He blinked a few times, taken aback by that.

"No…"

"So when I told Nick I was fine and didn't need a babysitter he sent you anyway because…?" Nika shook her head a little, feigning confusion.

"Because you're a witness and we don't know if this thing is going to trial yet," Warrick said firmly. "This guy _does_ have access to a phone call. Could call a buddy or something. And if the judge sets bail if he doesn't plead guilty tomorrow, he'll be out." Nika blinked quickly.

"Good answer," she mumbled.

"You're not going to be alone for any extended period of time, and that's standard procedure," Warrick said. "Especially in a case like this."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"When the suspect doesn't finish the job, and I'm leaving it at that," Warrick said, his voice dropping a bit in pitch. She flinched, then covered by taking a sip of her beer, setting it on the end table next to her.

"You know, I didn't always assume people treated me like a China doll until this happened," she said quietly, playing in Shasta's fur. "And I guess I'm taking it harder than I normally would." She heard Warrick lean forward in his chair. "Was he planning to kill me?"

"I don't know," Warrick said. She nodded, her face falling a little. "But judging from his criminal record, he probably could be capable of it." She pursed her lips, then took another swig of beer.

"And because I'm a woman who's been victimized, who's blind on top of it, means I get to have a cop on my porch until this thing is over," she said quietly.

"Because you're a victim," Warrick said. "Period." She nodded a little, turning toward the window, her lip quivering a bit. Warrick clicked his tongue, standing to crouch right in front of her, taking her hand in his. Shasta perked up for a moment, but rested her head in Nika's lap again a second later. "You remember that conversation we had out on that bench?" Nika nodded.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered, shaking her head. "I never get like this."

"You know what? It's not a big deal," Warrick said, his voice soothing. She turned her face toward him, brow arched.

"Yeah, being a complete and total bitch to someone who's bending over backwards to find out who beat the shit out of me isn't a big deal. What planet did you just step off?" she asked with a snicker. Warrick smiled.

"Listen, it's normal for people who are used to taking care of themselves and leading a normal, routine life to get angry when that's interrupted. We see it all the time," Warrick said. She shrugged, a tear breaking free.

"How did the, uh, sketch work out?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"Don't know yet. Yvette had something come up and she's not quite done yet. She's going to meet us before the arraignment tomorrow morning." She nodded.

"And if she doesn't finish it in time?"  
"She will," Warrick assured her. Nika nodded, and Warrick's phone beeped. He let go of her hand, standing up to answer the phone. "Brown… yeah, okay… keep me posted."

"What's going on?"

"Brass is going to drive around Casey's neighborhood and look for her. They're getting restless," he answered.

"I don't know where else she could have gone," Nika sighed, rubbing her forehead. "She doesn't drink, wouldn't go to a restaurant if she'd been crying…"

"She could just be driving around," Warrick reminded her. "Don't start jumping to conclusions." She managed a small smile.

"You always go this far out of your way?" she asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"You could have just sent uniforms out to check on us, you know," she suggested, "but you and Nick and Captain Brass came out yourselves." Warrick took a breath, but paused, so she continued: "Obviously it's not time for your shift, and I can't imagine business being slow enough to not have anything better to do than this."

"Case isn't wrapped up yet, so we're not back on rotation," Warrick said with a shrug, brushing a chunk of hair out of her eyes. "And it's not often we get to work with the living, so we take extra care to make sure they stay that way when we do," he said, watching her smile lightly.

"You have an explanation for everything, it seems," she mused, smiling at the low, barely-there chuckle he gave her.

"Why do I suddenly feel like I need a lawyer for this interrogation?" he joked, receiving a wider smile.

"You've had several opportunities to pawn me off on someone else – have Nick take me somewhere or sit with me while I had be at the police department for whatever reason, or just let a uniform handle it, but you didn't. Nick could have come here and you could have gone to look for Casey, but you're here," she said, shaking her head a little. "You walked around a store with me, while I sniffed every kind of soap in existence." His smile slowly fell. "What gives?"

"I'm not sure what you're asking me," he said, but she noticed his pause.

"You're a crime scene investigator, not a detective, right?"

"The line's blurry," he said.

"And rather than going through the evidence with your partner and talking to other people involved in the case, you spent almost every minute… with me." The noise that came from Warrick's throat didn't seem to make Nika feel any better, and she sighed, shaking her head. "Forgive my hopefulness," she said with a shrug. "It's harder to read people's intentions when you don't have access to the window to the soul." Warrick couldn't help but smile. "Shasta, up," she said, tapping the dog's shoulder with her beer bottle, waiting until she was freed from the dog's grasp to stand and return to the kitchen. Warrick kept her in sight. "You know, I have a phone. If you'd rather, you can leave the officer out front and give me a ring when you hear something about Casey," She said, pouring her beer into the sink and opting for water. Warrick noticed her method of measuring the amount of water in a cup and smiled a little.

"You're kicking me out?"

"No, I'm saying you can leave when you want to. I'm fine here with my locks, dog, and security guard," She said simply.

"So you're inviting me to leave."

"No, I'm saying there's no reason for you to feel obligated to stay here when you could be at home asleep before going back to work later tonight," she said.

"I'm not in a hurry," he said with a shrug.

"Not in a hurry to catch up after pulling several double shifts?" she pressed, brow arched.

"You've got a wicked eyebrow," he said.

"What?" she asked with a laugh.

"That eyebrow," he said, taking a few steps forward to run his thumb over the brow in question. "Challenge, huh?" She just blinked. "Does that every time you think you got me beat."

"Mind of it's own," she said with a shrug, pulling her face from his hand to take a sip of water. "But you're dodging."

"You're right," he said. A flash of a satisfied smirk appeared for a split second, but was gone. "Remember what I said about the bourbon and visit with Shasta?"

"You could arrange it?"

"And the bourbon?"

"It would have to wait until the case wraps," she said slowly.

"Mm-hmm." She felt his eyes on her and swallowed nervously, licking her lips. She didn't jump when he tucked her hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek with his thumb, but she did shiver, and she did hear his quiet chuckle. He wasn't laughing at her though.

"And that's why you're dodging," she said quietly. At that moment, his phone buzzed again, and he sighed, ruffling her hair. She cleared her throat, sipping her water and moving away from Warrick as he answered it, returning to the couch to sit with Shasta.

"They found Casey," Warrick said quietly, leaning against the breakfast bar.

"She's okay, right?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Upset, but fine." Nika nodded slowly. "Said she just wanted to be left alone."

"She'll come out of it," Nika said after a beat. "We'll work it out." Warrick nodded, clipping his phone back in place on his belt. "Now what?" She felt him standing next to her, and closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"Now I'm going to take you up on that offer to go home and get some sleep." Nika nodded slowly. "And I'll stop by after the hearing tomorrow morning and let you know how it went."

"You could just call, you know," she said, turning her face toward him.

"I could." His voice was closer than she expected, giving her a better idea of where he was, and she turned her head some more, a little more slowly. She pulled away from him a little when her cheek touched his, but he followed, his hand meeting her other cheek to trap her. "But I don't want to just _call_," he said. She smiled, and he mirrored it. Her smile deepened as she traced the lines in his cheeks. "I'll see you tomorrow." She nodded, pulling away a little, but their hands remained where they were. "The, uh, uniform's gonna stay here," he added. "At the door. He'll call in a replacement in the morning."

"I figured," she said with a smirk.

"Sweet dreams," Warrick whispered." She nodded, and he pulled away. A moment later she heard the door close and voices outside. Shasta grumbled a little bit, shifting on the couch.

"Yeah, I like him, too," she said, scratching Shasta behind the ears. Shasta only picked up her head, giving Nika a quick lick on the chin.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Warrick knocked again, shaking his head as all he heard was silence – not even a bark. He'd called on his way over to tell the uniform he could leave – Deaver had plead guilty.

"You lookin' for Annika?" He turned, watching Mrs. Hawthorne – Betty, he remembered – wave from across the street.

"Yeah," Warrick called back, glancing before crossing the street. "You know where she went?"

"Down the street to the market with Shasta," she answered, nodding her head to the left. The pair had just rounded the corner, Shasta wearing a harness and Annika holding a paper bag in her free arm. Warrick smiled as Shasta paused at the curb, looking around before leading Nika across the street. "She has surgery in a couple days, you know," Betty offered. Shasta just might get rid of that harness soon, God willing."

"Yeah she mentioned that. Where's that being done?"

"She's got a special doctor at a hospital over on Rainbow," Betty said with a shrug. "I don't remember the name of the place, but it's the closest one." They both watched as Nika searched her pockets for her keys, feeling out the door handle before coaxing the key into the lock and swinging it open, Shasta jogging in behind her.

Thanks, Betty," Warrick said, sending her a bright smile as he headed back across the street.

"Anytime, sweetheart," Betty called. He waved over his shoulder, not turning back to the older woman. Ferocious barking started the moment his first knock hit the door, and he had to smile.

"Shut it, mutt," he heard Nika say, muffled behind the door. As the lock turned, she already wore a smile, Shasta giving one last short and quiet woof before settling down as the door opened. "Hi, Warrick," Nika said brightly.

"Morning."

"It's afternoon," she said, backing away from the door to let him in. "I got your message just now," she continued, gesturing toward the phone. "It's really over?" Her hand was still on the doorknob, the attached shoulder thrust up toward her ear in a gesture that seemed shy to Warrick. He smiled, turning back to her.

"In the mood for bourbon?" he asked, watching a smile light her face.

"Can I show you something first?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug. She grinned, reaching for his hand and pulling him toward her, turning to open the door behind her, on the wall cattycorner to the front door.

"Could you flip the light?" she asked. "It's been a while since I've been in here." He did, his eyes widening at what sat in front of him, and he let out a whistle. She smiled, shaking her head a little as he walked around the thing, running his fingers along behind him. "1964 Chevelle, five-speed, black leather interior, ragtop convertible," she said proudly. "Haven't seen it in about fourteen years, and it probably doesn't run, but I thought maybe if one of these surgeries worked out we could bond again," She said, shrugging. "Is she as pretty as I remember?"

"Absolutely," Warrick said. "You know, I know a couple of gearheads," he continued. "I'm sure they'd jump at the chance to check this baby out." She smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Now how 'bout that bourbon?" Another grin, and he nodded. "I know just the place." That eyebrow rose, and he chuckled.

"Gotta be someplace I can wear jeans and a tee shirt. Not much else in the closet and the stuff in there that isn't, I wouldn't be able to mix and match," she explained. "I mean, if you've got your heart set on someplace, I know I've got stuff in there, but I don't have any idea what goes with what, it's been so long since I had to dress up.

"You could get by with what you're wearing," he said. Truth be told, the place had a dress code, but he knew everyone there and was sure they wouldn't say anything just because it was him.

"Get by?" she repeated. "Don't start lying to me know. You were doing so well." Warrick snickered, taking her by the hand again.

"Let's go see what you've got in there." She narrowed her eyes, brows furling, but a smile played on her lips.

"You've been through my entire house," she said slowly. "Who got my room?"

"I did," he admitted.

"So you know what's in there," she continued.

"Not off the top of my head, no," he said, but his tone held a coyness that made her want more information.

"And you've been planning this for how long?"

"Ever since you said something about bourbon a while ago," he admitted. She let out a laugh, leading him back into the house. She leaned against the doorframe until he called her over, taking her hand and depositing the hangers. Her fingers ran over the material, a small smile lighting her face.

"I remember this," she said quietly. "Okay, give me a minute." He nodded, dropping her hand and shutting the door behind him. She didn't even consider the possibility of him fooling her by shutting the door, soon hearing him talking on his phone in the living room. She smiled a little, changing quickly. After taking the time to feel for the shoes she'd worn last with this – seeing how her Converse were almost the only shoes she owned now – she opened the door, and Warrick snapped his phone shut, standing quickly.

"You ready?" he asked, fighting the urge to give her a catcall.

"As ready as I can be."

"What do you mean?"

"Casey usually did my hair and makeup for stuff like this," she said with a shrug.

"It looks fine and you don't need it, respectively," Warrick said, receiving a tiny, shy smile.

"Then I guess I'm ready," she said with a shrug.

xxx

She could tell it was a club, but all she could hear so far was the bass and people talking outside. But since they were still walking, she didn't know if all these people were just hanging out or waiting in a line they could somehow bypass.

"Hey, Rick," someone, a voice she didn't recognize, said. Warrick replied, and his arm shook as he apparently shook the man's hand. "Your buddy Alvin's playing tonight."

"Is he?" Warrick asked, wrapping an arm around Nika's waist. "We got a step here, Nika," he said quietly to her. "Right in front of you."

"Curb?"

"Yeah." Then to the doorman: "You full tonight or is there someplace to sit down?"

"Should be a couple tables open. We usually leave two or three near the stage for friends," the man replied. Nika picked up the smile in his voice, and found herself smiling as well as she navigated the curb. His hand remained on the small of her back, guiding her through the mass of people with directive pressures with his fingers until they got to the table, at which point, his fingers slid around her side to the side of her middle, pulling her back gently. She stopped and heard metal scrape beside her, and he took her hand, placing it on the back of the chair.

"Thanks," she said, slowly taking a seat.

"No problem," he replied, pulling a chair up next to her, his arm settling around her shoulders. No sooner than they sat down, the music started up again, and she found herself smiling. She leaned toward him a little.

"Duke Ellington, huh?" she asked.

"I'm impressed." She heard his grin and shrugged.

"Live?"

"Naturally."

"Nice," she commented, shifting in her seat toward him a little. His thumb stroked a small area of her shoulder, in time with the music, and she found herself smiling. A moment later, she heard Warrick take a breath.

"Uh… gin and tonic and…" he turned to her. "What do you want, Nika?"

"Bourbon on the rocks." Warrick's shoulder moved again, she supposed to nod to their server, and she gasped a minute later when he pressed something cold to her arm. "Thanks," she said, finding the glass and taking a sip.

"You look great, by the way," he said, leaning toward her so he wouldn't have to yell over the music. She only smiled, and though the club was darker while the band was on stage, he felt the heat in her cheeks. "You got a look from Scott, the doorman."

"Is that good?"

"He sees so many women every day he usually doesn't notice." Her smile widened. "So yes, that's good. And you're on _my_ arm." She let a laugh slip, nudging his side with an elbow to get a laugh from him.

As a song wound down, she finished her drink, using the tablecloth pooling over her ankles to judge where the table was to rid her hands of the glass. She turned to him, brows raised as a piano song started.

"Band's taking a break," he said, and she learned she was much closer to him than she'd thought.

"But there's still music," she said, tilting her head to the side.

"And there _is_ a dance floor if that's what you're thinking," he said after a beat. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and he took her hand, pulling her to her feet and spinning her a couple times before settling an arm around her and starting a slow sway. Her arms went around his shoulders, the side of her forehead pressed to his cheek. His shirt felt like silk, and she found herself stroking the fabric between his shoulder blades, smiling lightly.

"What's it look like?" she asked quietly.

"You'll see it in a few days," he whispered, pulling her a little closer. She lifted her head, a little surprised at that, both in his confidence that the surgery would work and at his obvious intentions to bring her here again.

"Yeah?" His fingers threaded through her hair to settle his hand against the back of her neck, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her hand left his back, settling on his cheek before tracing his face, and the smile she expected wasn't there. She lowered her hand to his chest, her eyes following where she knew her hand to be. Butterflies flitted around in her stomach, and she licked her lips nervously, closing her eyes as he lifted her chin with a finger, brushing his lips over hers. Her breath caught in her throat, breaking through with a quiet vibration as he turned the touch into a gentle kiss, lingering without lasting. The butterflies dissipated as she lowered her head to his shoulder, letting him lead her around in circles as the piano played on, not realizing she and Warrick were the center of attention, and the only people on the floor.


	8. Finale

_Finale_

Warrick sat beside Nika quietly, waiting for her to wake on her own. Her breathing was deep and even, but she was restless, her feet and fingers twitching sporadically. She inhaled sharply, shifting under the white sheets pulled over her neatly, and Warrick reached out, running his fingers down her arm.

"How you feelin'?" he asked quietly. She sighed, giving him a little shrug.

"How'd it go?" Her voice was a bit croaky, but she didn't seem like she was groggy or hung over at all. That was good.

"Why don't you tell me?" A touch of a smile graced her lips, and she let out a little laugh before turning on her side, facing the direction from which his voice came. Her eyes opened slowly, and she blinked a few times. She started with his hand, his fingers curling easily around her forearm, just under her elbow. Her brows knitted in concentration, eyes not having focused in so long it took too much effort, but she traced his fingers with her own, finally sliding her palm over the back of his hand and closing her eyes. He took a breath to ask her what was wrong, but she opened her eyes again, blue orbs settling on his face. Concern filled his eyes, but melted away as she smiled and reached out, cupping his cheek in a warm but trembling hand. She tugged on his wrist, and he stood while she scooted over a little, barely making enough room for him to lie beside her on the tiny hospital cot.

"Did he say how long?" The smile that had made its way to Warrick's lips fell slowly, but he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"He doesn't know." She nodded, letting out a slow, controlled sigh.

"So when can I see the sketch?"

xxx

As Warrick was out of the room, Nika took the time to look around the small breakroom of CSI HQ. Just a round table with a few chairs, a counter with a sink, coffee pot, and microwave, and a full-size refrigerator. She heard him re-enter the room and turned, her eyes going to the two flat items in his hand. He held out the sketch first, and her eyes slid from his face to the drawing. She sat slowly, setting the sketch on the table in front of her as she let it sink in. He slid the photo over next to her hand, and her lips parted slightly.

"Wow," she whispered. "I did this?"

"Sure did." Her head snapped up, focusing on the figure standing in the doorway. He'd hidden behind Warrick on the way in, or appeared a few moments later, apparently. "Greg Sanders," he said with an adolescent grin, sticking his hand out. She placed her hand in his, eyes wide with surprise.

"Soon as the DA saw that, he decided not to make a deal," Warrick said. "The guy's going away for a while." She nodded, her eyes still shifting back and forth between the sketch, the photo, and Greg himself, shaking her head slightly. "You did good." She smiled up at Warrick, and he collected the sketch and photo, handing them to Greg to take back to the evidence room. Greg patted her on the back lightly before disappearing down the maze of hallways, and Nika turned to Warrick.

"You promised to show me something else," she said quietly. Warrick's eyebrow rose. "And I want to see the silk shirt you wore there last time." He smirked, nodding slightly as he took her hand.


End file.
